#green carpet. now green walls. hmm

[catboydan]

sorry but they're not gonna convince me that's Phil's room. It's so empty and devoid of personality. It looks like a guest room to me.

Yep I agree! I think it’s just a guest room that he’s using because he can’t use the usual amazingphil space rn (presumably because of builder stuff)

[camels-pen]

moms always find it

summary:

It's just one ecto-pen, his mom won't find the other stuff he's got hidden around his room.

Probably.

based on @echoghost1's prompt "Danny has lost something important and Mom has started to help him look. Unfortunately, he's got a habit of using his powers to store things in odd places and she isn't going to give up until they find it."

Ao3 Link | Phight '24 series

“Really, it’s not a big deal—”

“Nonsense!” Mom said, violently stripping the covers from his bed. “That was an important and practical invention!”

Danny held up his hands. “I know, I know, and I’m sorry; I really didn’t mean to lose it.” Didn’t mean to shout that he’d lost it either. “But I can look through my room on my own,” —with his powers, because 9 times out of 10 it was in the walls or furniture somewhere—“you really don’t have to… help like this.”

Mom threw the sheets on the ground, then turned to face him as she reached for his mattress. “Well, young man, I wouldn’t have to rummage around your room if you kept track of your things. Especially, prototype inventions like the Fenton Ecto-gun Mk 4 Ink Utensil,” she said with a huff. “Now either you help me look or—”

As Mom started to lift the mattress, Danny spotted a piece of something silver and green sticking directly out of his bed frame.

“Don’t lift that!” he yelled, jumping atop his mattress.

Mom shrieked as she yanked her hands back. “Daniel James Fenton, be careful! You could’ve taken my fingers off!” She glared at him. “I know you’re a growing boy, I’m not going to judge you for whatever magazines you keep to yourself, but really never do that again.”

As much as Danny would love to defend himself, there was a stunning lack of any and all other excuses he could possibly make at the moment. All his usual wit went down the toilet the moment Mom’s knee-jerk reaction was to assume he had R rated magazines hidden under his bed.

“As I was saying the Fenton Ecto-gun Mk 4—”

“Ecto-pen.”

She furrowed her brow. “Pardon?”

He laughed stiffly. “Well, you know, ‘Fenton Ecto-gun Mk 4 Ink Utensil’ is a bit of a mouthful, right? So, we’ve been calling it an ecto-pen.”

She stared at him, unimpressed. “We?"

“Yeah—me, Sam, and Tucker.”

“Danny,”—ugh, there’s the ‘you’re in trouble’ voice—“how many times do we have to tell you: no letting your friends operate our inventions. They don’t have the safety training.”

Danny furrowed his brows. “What safety training?”

“Oh haha, very funny.” She crouched down to check under his desk. “I know your father went over it with you kids ages ago. Trying to pretend you don’t remember so you can show off to your friends is not acceptable young man.”

Hmm. Best to just agree and move on. “Right. Yeah, of course. Can’t get anything by you, Mom.”  

Danny’s eyes roamed the room and he sighed in relief. Nothing out of place—

There was a spool of anti-ghost fishing wire sticking out of the carpet by Mom’s foot.

“Well, it’s not under there.”

Danny rolled off the bed and scrambled against the ground. Mom startled, bumping her head against the underside of his desk with a hiss. Danny managed to slap a hand over the spool and push it all the way into the floor before she leaned back to scowl at him.

“Danny, what do you think you’re doing?”

Danny gulped. “Just… hanging?”

Mom narrowed her eyes, looking him up and down. Her gaze drew to his outstretched hand, still partially cupped against the carpet. She dragged a hand down her face.

“We’re going to be having a talk later.”

“We can have a talk now.”

“Not a talk,” she said. “The talk.”

“Huh?” The gears in his head clicked together. “Oh. OH.” Danny waved his hands. “NO! That is absolutely NOT necessary. Actually, you know what? Dad’s already told it to me so you can just not worry about it, just like the safety training!”

“Your father hasn’t taken the puppets out of storage yet, but nice try.” Mom pushed herself up. “And clearly, it is necessary. Magazines are one thing, but if you’ve already gotten to condoms and possibly other people then it’s time for some parental advice.” Mom tutted. “We have to teach you to keep yourself healthy, sweetie.”

“How did you get—?” Danny stood too, holding out his hands. “Look, nothing here! No condoms or anything! And why did you jump straight to condoms?!”

“How do I know you didn’t hide them down your sleeve—”

“I’m wearing a t-shirt!”

Mom threw her arms out. “Well, what am I supposed to think? You never let me in your room anymore and you’re kicking up such a fuss while I look for our prototype, I kept finding weird stains on the carpet earlier, and you keep being sarcastic and temperamental—”

Something plipped on her hand and she looked up, mouth open to keep ranting before abruptly cutting herself off.

“Uh.” Danny waved at her. She didn’t move. It was like she was frozen like a statue. “Mom? You okay?”

“Up.”

“Up?”

Slowly, Mom pointed upwards. Danny followed her finger, staring up at the ceiling.

Oh.

Up.

There were dozens of Fenton brand inventions partially phased into the ceiling. The top half of the Fenton Ghost Fisher, the buckle of the Fenton Specter Deflector, a banged up knob from the Fenton Booo-merang, the glowing radar from the Fenton Finder, and one of the wheels from a Fenton Skateboard.

And, of course, half of the Fenton Ecto-Pen, dripping ink onto the carpet and Mom’s outstretched hand.

There was a long, heavy pause.

“So,” Danny said, slow and drawn out. “You remember that one time you sent me to magic camp?”

[sunjaesol]

#31 + #45 <33

31. Pulling away from a kiss, whispering words of love against each other’s lips + 45. Kisses exchanged as they move around, hitting the edges of tables or nearly tripping over things on the floor before making it to the sofa, or bed.

(aged-up, resurrected!Luke au)

Giggles echoed against the creamy stucco walls as they chased each other up the stairs, interrupted by kisses and whispered words. The walk-up apartment dated back from the 1920s — which showed in its infrastructure; AC was more a concept than a fact — but it was a gem for the couple.

Stumbling around the corner, Luke's back pressed in the wall as his hands latched around Julie's hips. "C'mon, Jules, the verse doesn't need to be flipped," he puffed.

Julie smiled and placed her hands on his neck, rubbing her thumbs into the skin. "It doesn't?"

Her boyfriend was adorable if he didn't think she won, given the fact he was against the wall and became putty in her hands at the first sign of contact. Shadows cut through his face; it darkened his green eyes and made him look more alluring. Sometimes, she looked at him and felt a punch in her stomach, in disbelief that the cute ghost boy — the amazing guitarist from their band — was her real, human boyfriend. Her forever.

Dipping to her level, Luke kissed her again, languid, and then relented with a warm utter: "Alright, Boss. You win."

They slowly moved further across the hallway and reached their front door. Luke held her pressed against him while he jiggled the keys into the door and gave it a good thunk; the door flung open.

Julie rolled her eyes. "We really need to get a new lock."

He chuckled. "Good luck talking to our fun landlord."

Unceremoniously, he dropped the keys on the console beside the door and kissed her, hard and sound. All thoughts of landlord politics vanished from her mind. Her hands slipped underneath his shirt, feeling the hot skin and hard planes of his stomach. If she moved up more, she'd note his hammering heart. Even after eight years, Luke's heart beat at the highest bpm for her. Maybe it made up for the years without a drum.

Despite their national succes in the indie-rock scene, which allowed them financial security, the two wanted to move through the phases of a relationship naturally; especially after Luke's rocky start as a ghost in eight years ago.

Now, at twenty-five, they lived together like any L.A. couple. In a weird apartment, with only themselves and their jobs to worry about. She couldn't imagine skipping to the parts people believed they should be. She has learned long ago that the moments in between milestones were more significant.

Like this.

Warmth rolled over her as they staggered from the tiny hallway into the living room, bumping into the couch. Their shoes scuffed against the wooden floor and they quickly chucked them off. Midnight light shone through the blinds and pooled onto the floor, guiding them to the bedroom.

Good. Her head still dizzied from the one too many drinks at the bar. She needed the guidance. Blame Willie for spurring on the group with his impressive tolerance level. Julie, on the other hand, felt her cheeks bloom pink after two beers.

"Shit," he cursed, his foot slamming into the side of the coffee table. Julie giggled, not before almost tripping over the ottoman and shrieking. Luke tightened his hold on her and laughed, the two drunk and breathless and dazed from each other's touch.

Somewhere along the way, Luke had pulled off his shirt that laid abandoned on the carpet. Julie's back bumped into the bedroom door. A dopey smile stretched across his cheeks as he kissed her cheek.

"Can I say something lame?" he whispered in her ear.

Her fingers gently tilted his chin so she could peck his lips. "Hmm. That's your thing, isn't it?"

"Shitty lock or not, I wanna get stupid drunk with you forever," he exhaled.

"That's not lame," she shook her head. How could he think that was lame, after all the strange and paranormal things they've experienced over the years? "I wanna do this forever, too."

Luke hummed, pleased, looming over her frame to push the door open and led them inside. While he showed love through physical touch, he lived for her words that affirmed his love; similar to their harmonies blending with ease during a song.

With an exalted smile — forever! they had forever! — from Luke's part, he slammed the bedroom door shut.

***

kiss prompts

[the-haunted-office]

A man who looks like he was assembled at a spare parts factory comes strolling into the Haunted Office followed by about two dozen men who all look like they could be named Stanley.

The two dozen or so men are all named Stanley, although the first man was not assembled at a spare parts factory, he just looks strange.

He wears his long light brunet hair back in a ponytail, holding it away from a pale face inlaid with inquisitive yet mismatched eyes - one green and the other brown. His wardrobe is what's the most offensive, for he adorns a black and white polka dot shirt, a black and white plaid vest, a black and white pair of striped pants, and one black shoe alongside one white shoe. One might easily confuse him with a walking kaleidoscope.

This walking kaleidoscope strolls into the Office and, despite having a crowd of Stanleys right behind him, begins calling out, "Stanley! Stanley! Are you here?"

The Parable of Stanleys gathered behind him have all started to goggle at their surroundings, at the unfamiliar carpet and walls. This carpet is different - an actual design on it instead of that ugly puke orange from their Offices. And the walls, those are different too, painted different colors, and the paintings all look like they're actually worth something as opposed to something that was bought en masse at the local dollar store, on sale.

It only takes a second for a voice identical to the mismatched man's to come on over the intercom, only this voice sounds just a tad bit more annoyed. And flummoxed.

"...What in the ever-loving HELL is all this?!" Cyrus growls in demand.

The Stanleys all simultaneously turn their heads upwards, blinking, then look back to the mismatched man and blink some more.

The kaleidoscope also blinks at the ceiling. "Ah, we've been discovered by this Office's Narrator. Hello! We are searching for my Stanley! Might you have seen him?"

"...You're going to have to be a little more specific than 'your Stanley'. There are quite a few of them in existence, as I'm sure you are aware," is Cyrus' pointed reply, given the gathering of Stanleys now going around and opening doors.

"Ah, yes, quite right," the mismatched kaleidoscope agrees. "My Stanley has shortish black hair to about here," he says, gesturing to about his ears, "black eyes, black glasses, typical office attire, rather nerdy. He didn't speak either, at least not until later, for some reason. He used to speak but then he stopped, I suspect he just preferred listening to me. Anyway, have you seen him?"

There's a delay of a couple of seconds, and then: "Hmm, yes, actually. Stanley Johnson. We accidentally dropped a piano on him and he died. We buried his body around back. Sorry for your loss."

The overhead speakers snap off, leaving the man standing there, smiling like nobody just told him that his precious Stanley was just brutally killed by having a... a piano dropped on his head?!

"......WHAAAAAT?!"

The rest of the Stanleys stop and exchange a look of loss for a moment. And then go back to exploring this strange new Office.

[3xm-draconic]

The Jester and The Courier: a wild wasteland love

Chapter 9: The Rambler, The Gambler .

(inside the Lucky 38 Casino)

Cicero awoke to a strange, but DAZZLING sight, the room he was in…it was like a royal palace!

It was painted in rich reds and blacks with a lush emerald green carpet, lights hung from the ceiling on strands and blinked with multitudes of colors, all around decaled on the walls in bold stripes were card suits: red hearts, black spades, white diamonds and golden clubs.

Emblazoned on the wall was the sign: “LUCKY 38: Presidential Suite room 777” and…much to Cicero’s fluster…there were large pictures of scantily clad women…and men too.

There was even a glowing sign above what looked like a shelf full of potions that flashed reading: “24/7 FULL LIQUOR MINIBAR”.

Cicero rubbed his eyes and shook his head, he could swear he could hear music, MUSIC coming from a strange metal box beside the bed he was in. He looked out the MASSIVE windows and saw the entirety of where he was, he must be in the great mage’s tower in new vegas.

“Well good morning there sugar!” greeted a warbly voice, Cicero panicked and whirled around to see a strange metal thing…it reminded him of those dwemer spheres in a way…mixed with a centurion…

In any case he panicked and grabbed the first thing he could from his bedside and hucked it at the metal creature…a weird tray with ash in it.

“Well Hey! Now STOP! Quit!...MA’AM SPADE WE HAVE A SITUATION!” cried the metal creature, “OH SHIT, JANE!?” cried Myrtle.

Myrtle had been doing something she had previously rarely got to do, SHOWER, afterall it was one of the terms she had to abide too with her brain if she wanted to reunite with it. So imagine if you were in her shoes right now…

You just got back from a tough fight, you rescued a lot of people, now you have a new quirky unpredictable roommate and you are covered in dirt, blood and sweat…you’d wanna take a shower too right?

Just a quick dip, wash away all the muck and anxiety while the lunatic is knocked out?

Well that's what she WAS doing…until Jane started screaming.

Myrtle didn’t even bother getting on a towel or a housecoat, she just ran out of the bathroom in full hot wet steamy glory.

“OI!” she snapped “quit harassing my maid!”, Cicero’s jaw hung from his face at the sight of her standing there…in nothing but bubbles of soap, “MA’AM!” Jane shrieked “YOU ARE INDECENT!”, Myrtle sighed and turned to Cicero who was still perplexed and in stunned flustered silence “well…I think my little impromptu peep-show has calmed our guest down”.

“Cicero this is Jane” Myrtle introduced the strange metal creature “she is a securitron MARK II, she’s my housekeeper, maid, bodyguard and she is going to be helping me take care of you…ok? So please…be nice”, “I know you said the poor dear was sick but I didn’t think he would up and ATTACK ME!” Jane huffed, “WELL…YOU SCARED POOR CICERO!” he snapped, he did not like the metal creature-woman...she was creepy.

Myrtle sighed in frustration “Janey dear, could you be a doll and fix me and Cicero something to eat? Something light on the stomach but filling”, Jane nodded, her screen-face flickering in acknowledgement “alrighty Ma’am, how does Deathclaw eggs benedict sound?”, “sounds absolutely delightful, can you make mine extra runny?”, “sure thing sugar!” Jane hummed as she wheeled away “oh, anything to drink with that?”, “I think I’ll have sarsaparilla-and-scotch on the rocks” Myrtle replied.

Cicero averted his eyes “um…miss?”, “hmm?...oh…” Myrtle whent back into her bathroom, finished showering off and got dressed in a very…alluring…black and red dress.

Cicero felt himself grow hot under his shirt collar, Myrtle took notice and smirked, she sat down on the bed “you know what? How about when you’ve recovered, before I take you to Usanagi, I show you around new vegas? Introduce you to the strip”, Cicero pondered “well…what is there to do here?”

Myrtle chuckled “all kinds of things~” she got up from the bed and sauntered over to the window “Over at Gomorrah you can have a night of passion and pleasure and all kinds of carnal delights, as long as you follow the rules and don’t get rough with the performers and escorts. Now that the Omerta’s prostitutes have unionized they pretty much own the place now” 

She pointed to a very fancy and luxurious building “if your hungry or thirsty and want a high-quality meal the Ultra Lux has you covered, now that Gunderson and several of the other ranchers have banded together to supply us with fresh food you can get just about anything tasty and refined…then again I’ve eaten 2 week old beans out of the fridge so what do I know of class and style?”

“Over at the Tops you can catch a show, a musical performance or a comedy routine, Hadrian is pretty funny and can always make a crowd laugh. Vault 21 is a unique experience, if you wanna know what it’s like being in a vault go check it out. Over in freeside is the Atomic Wrangler, check it out if you want some good booze and a fun game of blackjack” she then turned to him “and the best place of all? Right here.”

“The Lucky 38 has everything all the others have…and more~” she grinned.

“You…own?...this place?” Cicero pondered, Myrtle snickered “dollface I OWN all of NEW VEGAS”, “she’s the bee's knees when it comes to the strip!” Jane said as she sat down two plates of food.

“How did you come to be so powerful?” Cicero wondered as he ate, the meal was wonderful as the gigantic eggs were cooked perfectly and smothered in a rich but light sauce. “My father’s grandfather was a clone of the previous ruler of the strip, Mr House” Myrtle said as she dug into her plate as well.

“Mr House knew he could not live forever, he knew there was a chance something could still happen to him so he cloned himself. Now being a man of experiments and science he wanted to see which of these clones would be a successful heir. So he cloned himself 4 times and marked each clone with a card suit on their right hand: Diamond, Heart, Club and Spade.

 Out of the Clones from what he told me Diamond and Club waged war on eachother, one wanting total totalitarian dictatorship over the strip and the other wanting fascistic dominion” she turned to Cicero with a glum look in her eyes…

“Heart and my great-grandfather, Spade, managed to take them out before they could kill the original Mr House, Heart died in the process and Spade left the 38 to seek his own life. Now my old great-great-grandpa thought the experiment a failure when my great-grandpa left”. 

She then smiled a little“man oh man, guess how shocked and surprised he was to find out his clone had continued the lineage of House, if just marked under a different name and his great-great-grand heir was the very courier he had hired to help him secure the strip! ” she chuckled.

Myrtle then sighed forlornly “I had convinced him to work with the NCR when a Legion assassin, Vulpes Inculta, broke in…I still don’t know how he was able to slip passed me but…he managed to open the pod containing my great-great-grandpa and inject him with cazador venom. I tried to save him but gramps told me that due to bacterial contamination just giving him antivenom and popping him back in wouldn’t work…he’d just die in a few days in agony…”

She sighed…

“I wish I had more time with my great-great-grandpa, he sounded like an asshole but he ment well.”

Cicero didn’t understand half of what she said…

“Clone?...” he pondered, feeling a bit stupid for asking, “it’s like a copy of something…in this case, someone” she replied.

As they finished eating, Jane came up to Myrtle “oh miss spade? Your admirers are waiting for you down stairs”, “thankyou Janey” she turned to Cicero “well I gotta go, I’am performing in the lounge tonight, you should rest up and take things easy, if you want you can watch my show on the big monitor in the living room”.

Cicero watched her leave, her hips sashaying as she harmonized and vocalized he way down the hall.

(Lucky 38 Cocktail Lounge)

“Hey King good to see you” Victor smiled as he welcomed the man into the Lucky 38, “good to see ya Victor good to see ya”, “you here to see one of Myrt’s shows?”, the man laughed “See? Brother, I’d never miss one of that little mama’s shows for the world”.

The stage was set and the lights were dimmed…

The King, Pacer and his boys sat in the vip seat with the other leaders of the strip. Hsu and some of the other NCR troopers sat with them, Marcus and Calamity joining them as well.

“Hi King” Myrtle coyly waved, King blushed and waved back.

“This song is a favorite of mine, it was written by a LEGEND of the Mojave and with all that's happening…I think we need a little more Love in this wasteland” she took a deep breath…

“~Hold me close, hold me tight, make me thrill with delight Let me know where I stand from the start I want you, I need you, I-I love you With all my heart Every time that you near, all my cares disappear Darling, you're all that I'm living for I want you, I need you, I-I love you More and more~”

Cicero watched and listened from the huge screen…Sithis her voice was like honey on velvet…

“~I thought I could live without romance

U-u-until you came to me

But now I know that I will go on

Lovin' you eternally

Won't you please be my own? Never leave me alone

'Cause I die every time we're apart

I want you, I need you, I-I love you

With all my heart~”

She began to dance as her voice rose with every lyric…

“~Well, I thought I could live without romance

U-u-u-unti-il you came to me

But now I know that I-I-I will go

On lovin' you eternally

Won't you please be my own? Never leave me alone

'Cause I die every time we're apart

I want you, I need you, I-I love you

With all my heart~”

She smiled as the crowd applauded 

“Thank you, thank you very much” she smirked.

[accessible-art]

ID: A colored comic with black lineart and low contrast colors. It is seven pages long, and it goes like this:

First page:

Panel 1: Four people pictured outside, under the rain coming from the greenish grey sky. The person on the foreground has bangs and wears a dark colored hoodie, hood pulled up, two hands by their neck and sports a pensive expression. The one in the background has short hair and carries an umbrella. The two people in the middle are having a conversation. The one on the left has chin length blond hair and wears a green hoodie. The one on the right has shoulder length dark straight hair with bangs and wears a yellow cardigan and a light colored scarf. Neither of them has an umbrella and they are both wet under the rain. Their conversation goes like this:

"What do you think makes us human?" asks the blond.

"Pardon?" the dark haired one answers. "You're speaking into my bad ear and I can't hear over the rain, darling."

Panel 2: The duo arrive in front of a building colored with the same shades of greenish grey and with windows shining yellow from the light inside. They stand atop stairs, coming to rest under the building's rain diverter next to each other.

"One more time?" asks the brunette.

"What do you think makes us 'human'?" repeats the blond, rummaging through their pant pockets meanwhile, saying to themselves, "Where's my damn keys?"

Panel 3: A close up of the two in front of the door. The brunette is squeezing the water out of her scarf while the blond has turned their back to the viewer, checking the back pockets of their pants now.

"Ahhh. You're having one of your big thoughts again," says the brunette. "Hm. Hmm," she continues.

"Back pocket!" exclaims the blond.

Panel 4: Now they're inside the house, climbing up stairs at the entrance. The blond has the brunette's hand grabbed as they pull/lead her up the stairs and their other hand is on the stair railing. The stairs are lined with red faded carpet and the walls are decorated with patterned yellow peeling wallpaper. On the wall next to the blond is a window, and the rain can be seen clearly.

"Well-" says the brunette, "Something strictly for humans..." she trails off. "Maybe grief?"

"Elephants have funerals," the blonde disputes. "A killer whale carried her calf's body for days after it died."

"Losing stuff?" the brunette suggests.

"Most oak trees are planted by squirrels who forgot where they buried their nuts."

Second page:

Panel 5: They have arrived in a room lined with the same wallpaper as the one by the stairs in a different color. There is star shaped LED string light hung up along the corner where the ceiling and the wall meets. There are several sticky notes stuck on the walls and the door. The brunette closes the door with a "click". The blond is already in there, trying to take off their hoodie. They continue their conversation:

"Dreaming?"

"Nope," the blond answers, and adds, "Help please."

"Arms up," commands the brunette.

Panel 6: Brunette one is now helping out the blond. The hoodie is successfully off their head and by their forearms, revealing a black graphic t-shirt underneath. Brunette's hands are still by the hoodie too.

"Anyways-" says the blond. "Lots of animals can dream. Cats, rats, sheep, whales, dogs... My collie would bark in his sleep 'til I scratched his ears."

"Bees dream," they add.

"Mm," says the brunette. Her speech bubble, which had been white just like the blond's up until that point, turns black as she says, "...Hrm."

Panel 7: The brunette has opened the front of her cardigan, revealing a long sleeved white t-shirt tucked into green pants. Her expression is angry. The blonde is on the foreground, only half their head visible as they glance at the brunette, sweating. The brunette continues:

"Hmph!!" she says, in a jagged black bubble. The rest are also black, but not jagged. "Did you ask me a damn rhetorical question?? Huh???" she asks, mad. "You just wanna brag about all the animal facts you know??"

Panel 8: We can see blond's bust and up, and brunette's hands only. The blond grabs the hands of the brunette, saying,

"No, no, it was real. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to condescend."

Panel 9: The blond one still has one hand of the brunette's grabbed, and the other one opens a door. It opens into a blue tiled bathroom. A little white carpet in front of the toilet, a bathtub and green curtains opened around it can be seen. The blond explains, as they pull the brunette into the bathroom:

"There's a lot on my mind... Guess I'm just trying to find a clearer answer."

"Mmm," says the brunette in response, speech bubble once again back to normal.

Panel 10: They are inside the bathroom now, by the bathtub, taking off their clothes as the tub fills with water. Blond one's socks are off and they have just taken off their pants, holding it in their hands. They are halfway in the bathtub. The brunette's pants are discarded on the floor and she is taking off her white t-shirt. It is by her head. Now appeased by the blond, the brunette continues their earlier conversation.

"Hope?" she asks.

"I've seen how your cat looks at the treat jar. She knows hope," the blond replies.

"True," says the brunette. "Blood? Bleeding?"

"That's the most animalistic thing we do!"

Third page:

Panel 11: The brunette one has her t-shirt off her head, revealing strands off mussed hair and bare boobs. She is on a flat, pale blue background.

Panel 12: She lowers her arms, looking towards the viewer with a deadpan expression. She says, "It's not very fair to ask an opinion when you've made up your mind about the answer."

Panel 13: The blond one is on focus here, kneeling on the floor, taking out a packet from a cabinet containing a few cleaning supplies and bottles. The camera is angled towards them from inside the cabinet. It also captures the brunette in the background, putting on a bandanna, along with a part of the toilet and most of a cabinet mounted on the wall.

The blond asks, "How do you mean?"

Panel 14: Brunette one is on clear focus, shown from chest up, speaking with lowered eyelids in an exasperated expression, with one hand by her shower bandanna. In a little window is also the blond one, clutching the packet and sweating.

"We've done this dong and dance before," the brunette says. "I wanna say this time you... were on the freeway... and you made eye contact with another driver," she continues. "And you realized that we're all just animals that figured out how to work a stick shift."

An arrow points from this speech bubble into the little window, pointing straight onto the blond, reading "Gotcha!!" in red text.

The brunette continues. "And it freaked you out because that type of philosophy freaks you out." She adds, "And you were unsubtly trying to get me to say something like- that mastery of the PRNDL proves humans are a higher being that the average housecat."

Insıde the window, the blond says "Ack!" and thinks, "She knows me so well!"

Fourth page:

Panel 15: Only the brunette is in the square, opening the tub curtain with a "Swish". She is shown from shoulders and up. She says:

"You'd like me to say human consciousness separates us from the chaff."

Panel 16: The packet the blond took out of the cabinet is pictured, held in one hand while the other opens it. We can see that it has a symbol of an orange in the corner.

Panel 17: A hand on the bathtub's side while two feet enter the water. The owner of the limbs, the brunette, continues.

"But that's objective. We're all animals."

Panel 18: Two hands emptying the glittery contents of the orange scented bath salt into the water filling the tub.

"We all bleed and dream and hope," the brunette goes on. "Lose our... acorns... or keys." She continues: "Grieve our loved ones."

"I think what truly sets us apart is this shared desperate search for a higher purpose," her words pour. "Dissatisfaction is humanity's curse."

Panel 19: Panel 19 isn't separated from the previous by clear hard lines. The only thing separating them is the bathtub being pictured again, this time from the side, finally showing us clearly that brunette is inside the tub, arms resting atop each other on the tub's side, looking at the blond. The blond is holding up the orange scented bath salt, standing outside the tub in their tee and briefs, their back to us.

"Our species isn't worth more because we have glass in our windows and copper in our walls," the brunette states. "Isn't it amazing, that we were put here just to live?"

"Is it scary to be small?" she asks.

Fifth page:

Panel 20: A simplified drawing of the blonde taking off their graphic tee, hands raised in hair, and the brunette holding onto the tub's side, eyebrows scrunched together.

"I've freaked them out," she thinks. "Do they think less of me because I find insignificance a comfort?"

Panel 21: Panel 20's background's color transforms a shade more saturated in a simple wave shape, fitting with the greenish blue color. We see the brunette with her back to us, and the blonde throwing their t-shirt backwards as they step into the tub, chest bare.

"I think I feel a little better now. I'll bake some cookies later to say thank you," the blonde thinks.

Sixth page:

Panel 22: Camera shows us the brunette from above, sitting in the water and hugging her legs, her eyebrows still frowning in worry.

"..." The brunette stays silent.

Panel 23: Camera angled straight at the brunette, showing her to have stopped hugging her legs and instead having put her hands on the tub's bottom, legs still bent as she looks towards the blond, who is mostly off the camera except for their bare legs climbing into the tub.

"Well, we've got... bath salts," says the brunette.

Panel 24: We see the blonde now fully in the bathtub, sat and settled in behind the brunette, arms around her along the tub's sides. They look at her with a surprised expression, while she has her eyes closed.

"Bath salts??" they ask.

"Mmhmm..." hums the brunette.

Seventh page:

Panel 25: The blond's face shown from the side as they rest it on top of the brunette's, both of their skins wet as steam rises."

"..." they stay silent for a moment.

Panel 26: The two shown fully from the side. The blond is resting their arm on the side of the bathtub, leant back, eyes closed, and the brunette leans back against their chest and looks up at them. The green curtain is left open, letting us see the rising steam escaping from the window propped open right above the tub.

"Yeah," they say. "We've got bath salts."

End ID

Comic abt orange scented bath salts 🍊

[allegra-j-joann]

The office was just as elegant as the rest of the manor, dark wood and furniture, plush carpets over polished floors, and a wall lined with heavy bound books, she couldn't quite make out the titles from where she was but she imagined they were all about geography and history and important things for a soldier to know, the man from before sat behind the desk, looking over some paperwork with another soldier, when he saw she'd arrived he quickly waved the man away “we'll finish this later”  he turned his attention on her “well now, Miss Fairy, you clean up quite well, shall we have a chat?” she nodded, taking a better look at him now that she was calm, He seemed as polished and elegant as the room around them.

His dark hair was combed smooth now, but the ends were beginning to curl around his clean shaven jawline in the front, the back seemed to be tied back into a ponytail of sorts, the low gaslight of the lanterns on the walls turned his skin a warm brassy colour and highlighted the soft definition of his muscular frame. The calm of his expression was palpable, the corners of his mouth curled up at the edges in a warm welcoming way that had Elinor's tense shoulders sagging comfortably before she realised. His eyes, reflecting the green hue of ferns and forest grass the way it should have looked, were at once both embracing and unreadable. How could a man be such a contradiction? Elinor's eyes searched for answers in the way his hands clasped each other, in the way his broad shoulders sat formally square, the way his clothes hugged him. He wore a loose linen shirt with the sleeves rolled halfway up his forearm, tied to his neck with threads just loose enough to exposed the inklings of his collarbones. The coat he had been wearing earlier hung over the back of his chair, laced with gold thread against red fabric and glinting at the pockets with medals. Elinor realized then that this was a space where his guard was lowered significantly, He had been civil, and even a bit friendly to her earlier, but here he wasn't putting on a soldier's face, and she was partaking in such a sanctimonious way the line between Commander Cadfael and... someone else.

He relaxed back into his seat “Do you intend to just stare at me, Fairy?” he tilted his head slightly, the sleight curve of his mouth turning into an amused smile. She flexed and curled her toes uncomfortably and looked down at her lap quickly, feeling the tips of her ears and the back of her neck get warm “here, how about I start off the conversation then, What is your name? You probably don't want me to keep calling you Fairy or Blue, right?” He leaned forward across the desk to try and draw her gaze back up to him.

She bit her lip hard for a moment, she wasn’t sure if the cover story she’d made up would convince anyone, but she doubted taht telling him the full situation was a good idea “I’m, uh…Amellius” she tried to sound casual about it, but she couldn’t even convince herself

“Amellius? What an unusual name, I don’t think I’ve heard anything like it before”

“Most people call me Amell or Eli, if that”s easier for you” she offered quickly.

He shook his head and sat back in his chair “now now, we’re hardly friendly enough to be using nicknames for eachother, I was just making an observation. So, where are you from, Amelius? Do you live around these parts?”

“No, I’m from…further away, It’s a tiny little place I doubt someone as important as yourself has heard of” please, please don’t ask any more questions about it.

“Hmm, is that so.” he said simply, thinking for a moment, Then tell me, why were you in the forest, so far from home? You clearly weren’t happy to be there so I doubt you were out for a comfortable nature walk, especially in a forest that has seen so much rebel activity lately.” he had his hands folded in front of him now, elbows resting on the plush arms of his seat as he seemingly studied her.

Eli squirmed under his firm gaze, but didn't dare look elsewhere, finding herself somewhat uncomfortably staring as his chin, so it would at least look like she was still looking at him properly “well…” she said after a moment, if she was too quick to tell, he would absolutely know she was lying “to tell the truth I'm looking for someone, a friend of mine, she was supposedly seen around the village not long ago” The captain raise an eyebrow ever so slightly, inclining his head in a gesture for her to continue “I asked around a little and someone said they saw her in the forest, so I was looking”

“And did you report your friend missing to the guard? We have the manpower to search more thoroughly than one young lady, and would raise far less suspicion”

“It uh…didn't occur to me?” She tried, half shrugging and now dropping her gaze into her lap finally, she'd stared long enough, she thought “she's a bit skittish so I thought it better to not put her in the path of intimidating soldiers”

“How frank of you, not many would call us intimidating to our face” he gave a dry chuckled that made the hairs on her arms stand up “am intimidating you now, Amelius?” The cold edge on his voice as he asked her made her tense all over again, gone was the charming warmth when he'd greeted her, he seemed to be a soldier again, she could only hope this wasn't an interrogation. Before Elinor could answer, a sharp knock on the office door fractured the air between them and the captain sighed “Enter”. The soldier marched in and right over to the captain's side, casting a half glance at Elinor as he whispered something, Elinor barely caught the sharp edges of the word ‘cat’ and her stomach sunk in dread. The captain sighed more heavily this time and waved the older off, looking at her again “I'll have to conclude our little chat here, Amelius, you may go. Do try to stay out of trouble and next time your friend runs off, consider asking for help finding her, some folks get a little antsy seeing folks run around the forest” he warned, watching her as she quickly stood, muttering a clumsy farewell and all but ran out the door.

By the time Elinor found her way back to the rose covered cottage the sun was well and truly eating, casting everything in a hazy twilight purple outside, while inside warm yellow lanterns lit the four figures sitting in the living room.

Claudia had twisted herself so far sideways on the ouch she was practically upside down, one leg slung over the back of the least grandmother-y floral couch, a book held up over her head that she was reading from “-And from the ashen ruins the wrathful Momes emerged, disturbed by the Great Jabber Beast’s rampage, they descended on the villages, but to the amazement of the watching towns folk they- oh, Elinor, you're back!” She was the first to see, the door just in the corner of her vision “Auryn went out to find you since you were taking so long” she rolled over to start sitting up.

Imogen had been almost asleep on the far end of the couch and only opened one eye to see that the blonde wasn't visibly injured or actively bleeding everywhere “didja have a nice walk? Blow off all that temper of yours?” She drawled, until Alec leaned over and flicked the top of her head 

“don't, Imi, we don't need any more Alices throwing tantrums” the comment grated against Elinor but she bit her tongue, all it would do was start a fight anyway

 “actually i was delayed because I had to deal with the guards patrolling the area” she sighed, all four immediately perked up, the girls all looked varying amounts of alarmed, but it was Theodore's reaction that surprised her most, he'd been silently pacing up until now but he immediately turned on his heel and marched over to a cabinet, throwing it open and pulling out a carpet bag without a word.

“Theo, calm down,” Alec separated herself from Imogen and stood to stop his fretting back and forth. “Just because she ran into them, doesn't mean anything happened, right?” She glanced back at the blonde who nodded quickly “see? She didn't tell them about us, calm down and stop packing” she assured him “we just need to keep an eye out for their patrols more closely from now on” she put her hands on his shoulders, which had her all but raising them over her head, but the gesture seemed to comfort Theodore all the same and he set the bag down with a heavy thump that stirred up dust from the corners and knicknacks. “There now, that's settled” Alec clapped her hands, stepping back to face the room “now, Alices, to bed with you all, we have training again tomorrow and it's going to be even more difficult than the combat today, we need your brains sharp!” She ordered, Elinor opened her mouth to object and this time Claudia jumped in, clapping a hand over her mouth and ushering her away.

[trialbyselenelion]

Masters of None (Prologue) - Act 1

I think I died.

I say think, because I’m not entirely sure.

I definitely saw the headlights coming straight towards me as I sat in the backseat of someone’s car, but I never saw the collision. My memory cuts off before any impact is made so that's still a big mystery to me.

A few minutes ago, I woke up in a bed that I don’t think is my own, but what is a bed anyway?

Hmm, well I know what a bed is. But for some reason I feel like I shouldn’t know that. Weird.

I’m still breathing, so I’m not dead. At least, not right now.

I’m not in a hospital like I expected, in fact, past experience tells me I’m in some sort of motel room. Shag carpeting, a pair of nightstands (both with lamps on top of it) positioned at both sides of the King-Sized bed I woke up on, and a tv hanging on the wall. It was positioned right in front of my bed, likely for some late-night viewing. Nothing much else filled the room, just a leather recliner, a minifridge stationed under the tv, and a coat rack positioned near the door.

From where I was sitting, I could see a large window covered up by blinds and a door to my left. To my right were two doors, my guess would be that they’d lead to a closet and bathroom since these rooms always had those for their guests. Nobody would attend a Motel if they had to share a shower with other residents.

A knock at the door stirred me from my thoughts, my eyes darting over to the entrance next to the window. The door opened, likely left unlocked by whoever put my unconscious body here, and a young woman entered.

She looked to be only a few years older than me, with youthful freckles across her cheeks. She wore a lot of warm clothing despite the bright sun pouring in after her. Her clothes came in varying shades of green, contrasting with her dark skin and golden hair.

Not blonde mind you, literally golden, with a metallic sheen to it. I am suddenly reminded of the Greek story about the sheep with a Golden Fleece I read about in High School. Her tighter curls led to her haircut defying gravity while retaining a specific shape, like three pairs of golden wings growing from the nape of her neck to the top of her head.

She smiled disarmingly at me.

“Welcome to the waking world Patrick,” she said.

She walked over to the bed, holding out her hand. 

I took it, not seeing any reason not to. 

She helped me out of bed, and quickly I realized two things.

The first was that I was fully clothed, wearing a Beanie, sneakers, jeans and a t-shirt. I looked down and realized I was wearing one of those gas station ‘Three Wolf Moon’ Shirts. As I looked back at the stranger, a large lock of hair over my left eye shifted accordingly. It was brown, with its tips painted a midnight blue.

The second thing I realized was the fact that I only just now remember my name.

Hey, my name's Patrick James Talbot. But I always preferred PJ.

“I hope your rest was pleasant,” The stranger continued. “But we really must hurry. You’re one of the last few to wake up, and we can only begin today’s announcements once everyone's at the Town Hall.”

She then hid her hands behind her back and, as if out of nowhere, she pulled them back with a leather-bound journal in her grasp. She handed it over to me, smiling. 

I took it slowly, still taken aback by her sleight of hand. I could read, in golden lettering, the words ‘Patrick James Talbot’ on the cover. Under my name was a secondary title, ‘Town Jack-of-All-Trades.’

“Um, what’s this?” I asked quickly.

“Oh, it’s your own personal journal.” The strange girl explained. “It’ll be helpful for your time here; it can store all kinds of information. Whether you’ve written it or not, and more importantly, it’ll recall it whenever you need it. Plus, you won’t need to worry about running out of writing space.”

I flipped through its blank white pages, finding nothing. I kept it open halfway, on an empty set of pages, looking up curiously at the stranger. Her eyes darted back to the book, so I followed her gaze to find myself surprised by what I saw.

The previously blank page now had smudges on it, or rather, the beginnings of a sketch. Lines and strokes made by an invisible pen continued to mark the pages, becoming clean and readable in a few seconds. It was schematics; of a large square space with two interconnecting spaces connected to it. Simple shapes were in place of where specific furniture would be, but from what I could see it was obviously meant to be a simplified mapping of the motel room I was inside of. Alongside the shapes were names written in small but readable calligraphy, near a semi-large rectangle which was meant to represent the bed.

PJ Talbot and Chenzira Israel.

“Is that your name,” I asked. “Chen-zira?”

“Chenzira.” She corrected me kindly. “And yes, that is my name. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I am the Town’s Safekeeper."

"You were probably thinking of something along the lines of ‘where am I?’ Am I correct?”

I nodded. 

“I see, so the journal drew you a map based on the room.” Chenzira concluded. “Makes sense, it does only work with what information you or a council member has.”

“Council Member?” I asked, still confused by a large margin. 

“There’s six of us,” Chenzira explained. “We are the Governmental Body in charge of this town, Grimmstown to be exact.”

“Is that where we are?” 

“Yes, Grimmstown, Selenelion.” Chenzira shook her head suddenly. “But you would be told this at the town meeting, which we still need to get to. Come, let’s go now Patrick.”

“PJ.” I corrected her, unsure if I should since she’s apparently part of the government. 

“Oh sorry,” Chenzira said. “Very well, come along PJ. Your fellow citizens await.”

She took my hand into hers, and I blushed lightly. Despite the strangeness of the situation, I felt like I could trust her, as if she was a childhood friend and lifelong neighbor I just never met before today.

We left through the door, revealing that my room was on what appeared to be the third floor of an entire building. She silently led me to the stairs, and as we reached the bottom of them, I caught a glimpse of the rest of the building. The motel was C-shaped, with about six floors to it. From how large the building was, I’d wager that it had six rooms per floor. Probably the largest Motel I’ve ever seen, even if I don’t get out much.

I think.

Chenzira led me across the vacant parking lot that the Motel encircled like an open hug, taking me down to a street. 

It was actually less of a street and more of an all-encompassing sidewalk. There were no roads, not even a single drop of asphalt for miles. Is this one of those fabled “walkable cities” I heard about? 

Occasionally some varying paths could be seen, both thanks to a coat of paint or a switch to colorful bricks. Cars and Roads remained scarce despite the twelve-minute walk we took through the city. I could see Streetlights and small islands of dirt keeping the occasional tree alive in a sea of sidewalk, but no fire hydrants or parking meters. There were Bike racks and Patio Tables with accompanying chairs, but no bus stops or litter.

It was unnaturally lived in, despite the fact that Chenzira and I haven't come across anyone yet on our trip. I was eventually led to a large white building, almost like a shrunken down Capital Hall with a big dome on the roof even. It only had one entrance, a set of double doors you had to use either a ramp or small set of stairs to get to.

Chenzira began to climb the stairs but stopped on the third step. “I should warn you, you’ll likely have several more questions even after the mayor gives her speech. Save your questions until the end, she won't let you interrupt her. But pay close attention, it'll be a lot to take in.”

I nodded, thinking to myself about how small the building was if it was expected to hold an entire town’s populace. 

“Try not to cause a situation.” Chenzira continued speaking as she reached the double doors. “We have people on standby to handle any acts of violence, and our mayor is well equipped to settle a screaming match-”

“Am I dead?” I blurted out as she began to push open the doors.

She paused. “No, not in any way you’d classify it I think.”

She retained a neutral look as she finished opening the doors and led me into the building.

Walking past a waiting room of sorts, we walked up to another set of double doors. A golden plaque over these doors read ‘MEETING HALL’.

Past those doors was a large room, at the end of which was a large, gorgeous stage. This stage was decorated with Navy Blue Curtains and had three richly carved podiums on it, as if it were holding a political debate. Two Podiums were pushed farther back to give more space to the one placed center stage.

In front of the stage were about sixty auditorium seats, the kind that fold up, divided into two sets of thirty by three aisles. About thirty of these seats were filled, though it was clear that there was no assigned seating with how sporadic everyone’s placements were.

“Take a seat wherever you’d like, only one more citizen appears to be missing.” Chenzira said. “We’ll begin once-”

Chenzira stopped mid-sentence to look around, alongside the thirty or so people sitting down, there were three oddly dressed people standing in the aisles besides us.

Though to be fair to those three, PJ could see that several of his fellow citizens also had a unique fashion sense.

“Oh, I guess Deirdre is still out.” Chenzira spoke. “This last one might be more troublesome than the others. Very well, feel free to take a seat now PJ.”

I nodded, walking down the middle aisle to avoid the folks still standing. I found a middle-most seat, though I couldn’t tell you the exact number. 

In the audience I could see all sorts of people, some looking like they were dressed for the circus. For every person in a normal sweater or t-shirt there was someone else who looked like they were plucked out of the middle of a hyper specific scenario. I think I even spotted a kid or two in the audience.

Nobody in front or behind me made an effort to chit-chat, and besides the occasional glance, the others in my row made no moves either. My lane-mates included a girl obscured under a traveling cloak, a blonde man in a trench coat, and a red-haired person sleeping in their seat.

The double doors I entered through previously flew open all of the sudden, my head snapped over to see what caused the commotion. A woman wearing sunglasses and very Patriotic Face Paint had kicked open the doors.

She sauntered down the left-most aisle and sat down at one of the empty seats with a haughty look. Almost as if she owned the place, she placed her feet on the seat in front of her as she reclined. 

The girl in suspenders and a beret who was currently sitting at that footstool immediately changed seats, silently accepting that her old one was permanently lost.

Before the double doors fully closed after their brutal assault, someone else entered the building. She was wearing a headdress similar to a Nun’s, alongside a schoolgirl's uniform and rollerblades. Her wheels were muffled by the carpet that lined the floor of the meeting hall, despite that, she glided over to where Chenzira was standing with ease. The rollerblader whispered something to her, too far away from me to hear.

The lights then dimmed, and someone walked onto stage from behind the curtains.

They were an impressively, almost shockingly, tall woman. She wore several layers of clothing fit for the Arctic, and yet kept a perfect poise in her movements that betrayed no discomfort. Her black hair was tied into long, hefty braids, with the front-most pair partially dyed white at the tips.

The tall woman (‘Seriously she must be like 7 feet tall’ PJ thought to himself) approached the podium prepared for her. 

She tapped the microphone mounted to it, checking its audio quality. She gave a satisfactory smile and spoke in a calming tone as she addressed the occupants of the Town Hall.

“Hello, and welcome to the Paradise Regained project.” She said, “My name is Winona, and I am the mayor of Grimmstown, your new, permanent residence.”

Then about twenty different people stood up from their seats as they realized what Mayor Winona just implied with her opener.

[ash-a-twst-simp]

Start: To The Villains World, Ch 3

Creak-!

The girl opened the old and big doors of the hall slightly, and poked her head out of the gap between the doors.

What she saw was an empty hallway where not even a fly flew at. The walls were made of stones, there was a long green old but clean carpet on the ground, and a few candles in black candlesticks that burned with green flames.

Wait a fuckin' minute, green-?

_ Hey! What are you doing,get out already!

" Jesus Christ!"

The girl was startled by the shout that came from behind the door.

The girl stepped out into the hallway and then the cat came out from behind the doors.

" You startled me!"

" Hmph! For the better! That's what you get when you mess with The Great Grimm!"

" When did I ever mess with you…"

The girl put her hand on the side of her forehead and shook her head. She looked at the cat again.

Actually, she wanted to touch it to see if it was actually real, but she was afraid the cat kinda wouldn't be pleased by it, so she stopped thinking about this idea.

" Why isn't anyone here? Hello???"

The girl put her hands beside her mouth and shouted.

…

There was no response at all.

Was there really no one or were they ignoring here?

The girl looked at the racoon-like cat monster.

" Hey."

" What?"

" You know where this is, right? Why isn't anyone here?"

" Pah! You don't even know that? They are in the coffins you dummy!"

The girl gulped her saliva unconsciously. The only people who were here were the corpses in coffins…?

" T-then, there isn't anyone else?"

There should be someone else right? Who takes care of those corpses then? It's certainly not the cat, right?

The cat-like creature scratched its cheek with its paw and answered a moment after that.

" I guess the staff are preparing things for the ceremony."

The girl was relieved to hear that they were people here who were actually alive. Though if they were going to help her was another matter.

" But that's not what's important now!"

The girl looked at the cat-like creature. What was it trying to say?

" What do you mean?"

" How did you even get in that coffin?! Are you even a student?! This is a school for boys, there is no way that you could be picked by the mirror unless you pulled some schemes!"

" Woah, woah, slow down! What are you even talking about?"

Student? A school for boys? Being picked up by the mirror? What did all of this mean? All she saw was a hall full of coffins that she couldn't even count, which certainly had no connections to school ir students.

The cat-like creature stopped frowning and looked at her eyes with its large blue eyes.

" You really don't know what's going on?"

" Not even a clue."

Grimm put its paw on his muzzle and started to think what could actually have happened.

The girl seemed to be telling the truth. Now that he thought about it, all she had done till now was asking stupid and obvious questions.

" Hmm, how did you even get into the coffin?"

" I don't know."

" What do you even know?!"

Grimm was losing his patience more and more by the minute.

" Look here, Mr. Cat monster, all I remember is that I saw some black carriage and then I woke up here. So of course I’m confused!"

The girl didn't tell the cat-like monster that she had a car accident. She… just couldn't believe any of the things that were going on, even though they were real. She didn't trust this cute cat-like monster one bit. What if she told it that she had a car accident, and then it would say that she must be dead? What if the staff that it mentioned, come after her and force her to go back inside the coffin and then bury her alive?

She didn't even know why she was thinking about stupid things like this. Right now she should be looking for someone to ask them what is going on and get a phone. But fear was like a distressing melody that was being whispered into her ears.

She was alive, and there was no way she would accept being buried alive.

And it wasn't like she lied. All she remembers is that she saw a black carriage coming at her, and then she fell unconscious.

" Ugh! Don't blame me! How should I know what happened to you? You don't even remember how you ended up in the black carriage!"

Thanks god. It didn't seem to suspect anything.

The girl sighed and shook her head. The cat-like monster didn't seem to know what was going on, and it didn't seem to be related to the car accident.

But suddenly a question came to her mind.

What was this cute cat doing in that hall full of coffins?

" Actually enough of me. I'm sure that I heard your voice when I was in the coffin. You were chuckling with yourself?"

" Huh! Looks Like you finally remembered how you ruined my perfect plan!"

The girl titled her head with confusion. She ruined its plan?

" Your plan?"

" I was going to exchange the robes of the student who was supposed to be sleeping in the coffin, and then go inside the coffin myself, but when I unlocked the coffin, you jumped out! Not only you weren't sleeping, you also didn't have any robes!"

When the cat-like monster finally stopped talking, the girl said her conclusions out loud.

" So what you're saying is, that you were trying to steal the robes of the person who was laying in the coffin, get rid of the person themselves somehow, and take their place in the coffin?"

" That's right! Wait, no! I… I wasn't-!"

The girl smirked.

" Oh dear, looks like I just caught a criminal red-handed."

" Hmph! You're not that different yourself! The moment the staff notice you shouldn't be here, they will kick you out too!"

Wait, did she hear that right?

" Did you just say that the 'staff' will kick me out?"

The cat-like creature smirked and crossed its arms.

" Heh, that's right!"

" Then what are we waiting for?"

" What?"

The cat-like creature seemed confused.

" Let's go find the staff!"

The cat-like creature became startled.

" What?! Are you crazy?! Didn't you hear what I said just now? They will kick us out!"

" That's the point, don't you understand? I want to get out of here!"

That's right! If she found the staff, they could get her out of here! She could use their phone to call her parents or friend and get back home. Sure, everything here was weird, but surely there was a logical explanation behind all of this, right? Like, the coffins had invisible strings that made them float in the air, or this cat-like creature was actually a robot. She still had no idea of what this place actually was, or what happened with the black carriage, but she was going to find out sooner or later.

" Now show me the way. Where are the staff?"

The cat-like creature who was frowning raised its paw as a sign of stopping her.

" Now wait a minute! Maybe you want to get out of here, but I don't! Do you even know what I had to go through to enter this place?"

The girl rolled her eyes at the creature. Was it really serious?

" Oh please, do you think they were not going to find out and kick you out later? A naked corpse out of its place and a cat in its coffin instead. Are you dumb or what?"

" Ah…well, um…"

The cat-like creature was out of words.

" And why would you want to get inside a coffin? Do you want to be buried alive or what?"

" Buried alive? What are you talking about? Those coffins aren't going to be buried, idiot."

They weren't?

The girl got confused.

" Then what are they going to do with the corpses inside them?"

" Can you stop using that word? It's disgusting!"

" What word? Corpse?"

" Yeah! DON'T say that disgusting word!"

The girl rolled her eyes again. The cat-like creature seemed more of a softy than she had thought.

" Okay, then what are they going to do with the 'dead people' inside those coffins?"

The cat-like creature just didn't seem to understand what she was talking about.

" What dead people are you talking about? The students in the coffins are all alive."

A cold sweat rolled on the girl's cheek.

" They what?"

The cat calmly continued like he was stating the obvious.

" And the coffins are not going to be buried. The students inside them will come out, and the coffins will be empty till next year comes and new students get picked by the mirror and be brought here by the dark carriage."

…

She didn't understand a single word from what she just heard unless one thing. And it was the fact that there were people in the coffins that were alive, but somehow weren't going to be buried.

She suddenly thought of going back and checking the coffins but soon gave up on the thought. She probably wouldn't be able to hear the breathing anyway. Also, it was creepy to eavesdrop on a coffin.

" So you're telling me that there are people in those coffins that are alive and are going to come out?"

" Yeah, when the entrance ceremony begins, the students come out of coffins and then get sorted to the house that fits them the best. I was going to be part of that ceremony if not for you!"

The cat-like creature frowned and puffed its cheeks, which was way too adorable to handle.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Twisted Tarot IV — The Emperor

"Leadership is not a position or a title, it is action and example.”

The Emperor, Upright: authority, establishment, structure, a father figure

The Emperor, Reversed: domination, excessive control, lack of discipline, inflexibility

He is the ultimate authority--none can stand to challenge him in power, nor prestige. His people look to him for wisdom and guidance, and he, with the weight of the crown heavy upon his head, leads. If he falters, so, too, will his kingdom--so he must stand tall and stare straight into the face of the unknown.

Reveal the Shape of thy Soul...

... Malleus Draconia!

“... and this is our lounge!” Lilia chirped, sweeping a hand to gesture at the amenities. “Quite welcoming and lavish, isn’t it? Feel free to use this space to unwind from the stress of your classes and extracurriculars.”

Diasomnia freshmen exchanged dubious glances with one another in the dim room. Even then, they could barely see each other or the fear reflected in their eyes.

Through the mirror and up a winding, worn stone path they had treaded, the bramble coiling at their feet with every step. Nestled at the top of the hill, at the end of that trek, loomed a great castle with piercing spires and grand arches against the stormy sky.

The new students had balked as Lilia ushered them through the front doors. Their shadows shivered along creeping corridors, the walls lined with ancient artifacts and tapestries spinning stories of old, secrets and rumors woven into their threads. It was dark and cold and oppressive, less like a home and more like a dungeon.

Was Lilia the shepherd guiding his meek sheep to safety, or guiding his lambs to be sent to slaughter?

The freshmen weren’t sure.

One of them raised a hand. “Er, Lilia-senpai, sir? It’s a too dark in this room for us to make out anything beyond vague shapes...”

“Hmm? Ah, so it is.” Lilia nonchalantly glanced around. “Silly me. I’ve become so accustomed to the layout of this room that navigating it is practically second nature. It looks like someone forgot to relight the candles after they were blown out last night.”

From deep within the darkness, a calm voice rang out.

“Please, allow me.”

At once, a warm neon green light burst forth, spilling over every corner and crevice of the room. Flames flared from the tens of candles littered in the lounge--on single candlesticks, on candelabras, on sconces--illuminating the room in an eerie emerald glow.

The students realized the lounge was divided into two wings: one elevated above the other, with two stairwells bridging them. On the lower wing was a fireplace, beautiful carpets laid upon the floor, luxurious leather furniture and finely polished tables for seating.

But on the upper wing? A throne, with a pair of massive stony wings splayed out, made all the more imposing by an intense violet backlight.

And there, seated in that throne, was a young man of regal face, large horns protruding from his head. His lips peeled back into a smirk as all eyes in the room fell upon him.

The anticipation was nearly palpable.

“Well now,” he purred, “quite a glittering assemblage we have here.”

“My liege.” Lilia immediately dropped to one knee. “I have returned with fresh blood.”

“Yes, from the entrance ceremony, I presume.” His brows slightly knitted together. “I really felt quite distressed at having not received an invitation. Such an awkward situation--but no matter. How kind of you to bring them to me.”

The horned young man raised a gloved hand, a quiet but confident stroke that made the green flames in the room burn brighter, grow hotter.

“I welcome you to Diasomnia, founded on the elegance of the Thorn Fairy.”

A chorus of gasps and strangled sounds escaped the first years. They all scrambled onto their knees, following Lilia’s example, heads bowed and eyes affixed to the ground so as to avoid a discerning reptilian gaze--and to hide their frightened faces.

The air was suddenly thin, too stale to gulp down.

Outside, thunder rumbled, and lightning tore the sky asunder. 

Ghostly chills ran down the mob students’ spines.

Lilia found himself grinning wider than ever. “Gentlemen, I present to you the crown prince of the Briar Valley, your dorm leader: Lord Malleus Draconia himself.”

“Kufufu~”

A certain vice dorm leader’s laughter reverberated in the hallways as he passed. Lilia practically bounced, surging ahead of his prince with a pep to his step.

“You gave the new students such a fright, Malleus! Spooked them straight. I’ll bet they won’t be able to properly dream for the first few days of class.” Lilia paused. “The exception may be Sebek. I’m almost certain he was so touched that he was on the brink of tears. His face was twisting in such funny ways, trying to contain himself!”

“Yes, it was a successful orientation,” Malleus agreed, his reply terse and lacking his vice dorm leader’s enthusiasm.

“Hmm? You don’t sound very happy about such a ‘successful’ orientation.” Lilia cocked his head, mouth pursing into a sly shape. “My, could it be that you’re still upset about the headmaster forgot to tell you the date and time for the entrance ceremony?”

“I am in no such mood.”

His pout implied otherwise.

“Oh, Malleus. You know you can’t hide your disappointment from me.” Lilia chuckled faintly. “That would explain all the gloom and doom and the stormy weather.”

Raising himself on his tip-toes, he leaned into Malleus’s ear and whispered, “... It’s alright to feel frustrated. Let it out.”

The fairy prince laughed. “Throwing a tantrum over such a trivial thing is not behavior befitting of a king. I was merely insulted at the insinuation that my presence was not important enough to be remembered—that is all.”

“I see.”

Both of them knew Lilia didn’t believe him, but he at least had the grace to know when to give up on challenging his liege.

“... I thank you again for serving as my liaison. It helps to have a friendly face to coax the first years in.”

“Come now, you’re too kind. I’m sure they would love to be personally escorted around by THE Malleus Draconia as well.”

“I would think they would... how did you put it? Be ‘scared straight’ rather than be welcomed,” he replied dryly, a slight hint of mischief in his eyes.

“Perhaps so~”

Malleus’s lips twisted into a wry smile—one of the few things someone of his status was allowed to do without many repercussions. Mild humor to hide the pain, to keep people from looking deeper, from suspecting something.

An unspoken rule of royalty, a mantra to keep himself sane... Conceal, don’t feel. Put on a show. Make one wrong move and they’d all know.

His faults, his flaws, cracks in the facade of a perfect prince—their strong and powerful leader. The immense loneliness that gripped him. All the anger and the sorrow he couldn’t outwardly express.

“Malleus.”

He suddenly felt two hands close on his cheeks, cupping his face. Lilia stared intently into his eyes, his words as solemn as his gaze.

“You wear your crown well, but do remember to not let its weight crush you.”

“I know.”

I know that more than anyone.

Because if he fell, so too would the ones looking to him.

“Good.”

Lilia released him, turning around in a twirl. “This is your youth, your schooling. You have every right to kick back, relax, and live a little! Why limit yourself to these drab castle walls when you can make NRC—no, the entire world—your castle?”

“You tease me with the prospect of world domination,” Malleus joked. “Don’t tempt me.”

[kriz-fics]

The Sword’s Legacy

Series Summary: As the heir of your father's lands, you have grown up knowing that one day you must wed to your House's advantage, and there's no better catch than the younger son of the Magister himself. Meanwhile tensions within the king's court are set to come to a head at any moment - it just needs that spark to send everything ablaze. Now in a court more dangerous than the one you entered, you find distraction and joy in the company of the beautiful boy with the beautiful eyes. You can only hope to weather the storm you can sense brewing in the horizon.

Masterlist

Chapter Three: Trots and Canters

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x Female Reader

Genre: Royalty AU, Historical Fantasy AU, Romance, Politics, Warfare, Eventual Smut (future chapters)

Length: 4.8K

CW: None

“Not long now,” Eren says, pulling back a little so he can match your pace in the column. You will be arriving in Reicona within the hour, you surmise, having passed several landmarks familiar to you from years of riding through the same well-worn path during the court’s summer progresses.

“Just in time for the Alyfeis,” you remark. The once faint outline of the city’s magnificent walls have come into sharper focus as your party joins the steady stream of humanity heading towards Shiganshina’s capital for the harvest festival.

The Month of Gathering has come at last and the first of autumn is making its presence felt in the countryside. Already, the once verdant fields and meadows have turned a paler green, bordering on yellow. Soon enough, the lands will be carpeted in the red and brown characteristic of the approaching season.

“I’ve always wondered what the Alyfeis is like in your State,” Eren comments thoughtfully, his eyes following a pair of farmers, who stand aside and bow hastily at the sight of the Jaeger banner in the hands of one of the standard bearers.

“Hmm, I can’t be too sure how much it differs from how Paradisians are supposed to celebrate it, since I haven’t experienced it outside Vascalin, but I can say that the streets are always full of flowers. It is the one day of the year where we get a storm of petals, petals as far as the eye can see.”

As you speak, you see the streets of home packed with revelers wearing crowns and chains of flowers, running and dancing as they make their way to the Great Sanctum at the heart of the city. They will be laden down with baskets and baskets of the year’s choicest produce, nothing less but the very best must do for the gods. You see the godstone, the largest godstone in the realm, its foundations buried in mounds upon mounds of fruits, vegetables, grains, and other crops. You smell the scent of the food the people bring for the great harvest feast within the sacred woods, hear the sounds of lute and pipe and fiddle, feel the cool autumnal air pleasant on your skin. You tell Eren as much, and you see interest light up his eyes. 

“Is it so very different from your own celebrations?”

“Very,” Eren confirms. “You’ll see. It’s more… communal? The way you do it, I mean. I don’t think you’ll enjoy our way as much. I already prefer your Alyfeis to ours, and I haven’t even experienced it yet. It sounds so much more exciting.”

You smile at the enthusiasm in his voice. “You’ll get your chance next year.”

You are to spend the closing season of the court with the Jaegers this year. Both of your fathers have agreed to foster each other’s prospective child by marriage for two autumns, in order to ease the relations between you two. As such, Eren will be spending his own autumn reprieve in Arsechkala the following year, with you and your family.

This will mark the first time in your life spent away from the company of Rhyzkovs and Rhyzkov men, and you find it passing strange not to constantly be surrounded by your siblings or the servants you have grown fond of over the years. Yelena, as your handmaid, is the only one of your household to come with you. Your father had insisted on sending you off with a handful of Rhyzkov house guards, but Lord Grisha had assured him that you will be safe enough with the Jaeger men, and Lord Alexander had subsided.

“It’s not that I miss them, not truly,” you told Eren soon after you set off, “but it’s strange to have something that has always been there in your life suddenly vanish. It will take time for me to get used to their lack of presence.” You had remembered the time you first lost a tooth. While it did not hurt, it had felt so uncanny that you had often found yourself prodding the hole it left in your gums with your tongue.

“You won’t have time to miss them, anyway,” Eren had assured you, as he kept pace with your litter. “Plenty to do in Reicona. I’ll take you around, there’s only so much the summer progresses can show you of a place, after all.” 

The only part of the city you’re well-acquainted with is Highridge, the old seat of the Jaegers, built over a thousand years ago when the ancient Kruger kings had raised their loyal knights into lordship. You have never thoroughly explored Reicona before and are greatly looking forward to the opportunity.

It does not take too long for your convoy to reach the city gates at last. You look up at the far-famed Pillars of the Falcon standing guard upon either side of the entrance to the city, the Jaeger falconers sculpted from the same gray stone as the surrounding walls. The sheer size and spectacle of these monuments never fail to astound you each time you have the chance to travel to this part of the realm.

The smile on Eren’s face is tinged with pride as he notices the look of awe on your face. “Amazing, aren’t they? It’s not a true homecoming until I see these lads,” he says, smile widening as you laugh.

A four-day ride separates Belris from Reicona, distance enough to create two entirely different worlds. Where Belris is bright, a city of pale stone and domed buildings, a city renewed and rebuilt in much more recent years, Reicona is dark, a city of granite and towering spires, exuding age and years of countless experience. 

In the distance, you can see the towers of Highridge looming above all, stately and imposing. Flocks of market goers, merchants, and other commons make way as your party proceeds through the streets, bowing and respectfully acknowledging the return of their overlords for the autumn. 

Eren starts an account of some of the places you pass through, already creating an inventory and plans for the next few months. His excitement is catching; you find yourself being buoyed by it as you keenly gaze around, seeing the city in a new light. 

Truth be told, Reicona and its mother State Shiganshina have never truly been high in your regard when it comes to the regions you love to visit, but perhaps having a more intimate knowledge of the place will further endear it to you. A personal connection in the form of the family you are marrying into certainly eases things, you think.

Before long, you are riding through the great doors of Highridge Castle’s walls, and it is only then that you notice how tired, sore, and hungry you are. The rest of the Jaeger household is coming through the gate behind you, scores of men, horses, and carts trundling in and filling the courtyard with noise and activity. 

You prepare to dismount, thinking longingly of a nice warm bath and the soft heather bed in your allotted chambers, only to be met with the expectant bright green gaze of your betrothed as he stands beside your mare.

You blink at each other for a moment.

“I can climb off on my own, you know,” you inform him. You have been doing so the entire time you were on the road, after all. The chaos of setting up camp and preparing to bed down in some inn most nights didn’t leave a hand free to assist you, and a proper lady knew how to manage on her own, if needs must.

He blinks some more at that, and you see the beginnings of a flush tinting the very tips of his ears. He laughs awkwardly, scratching his cheek. “So much for my attempts at knightly chivalry… Now a man feels half a fool for standing uselessly beside the lady’s horse. Indulge me?” And he lifts his hands towards you for you to take.

Your lips twitch into a smile as you look down at him, and indulge him you do. His hands are rough with callus, and you can feel the strength in them as he gently helps you down from your horse. He steadies you as your feet hit the ground, and something in you notes how remarkable it is that someone with that much power humming under his skin could handle you so very lightly.

You both hear your names being called and turn to see Lord Grisha climbing down from his litter, Zeke Jaeger following soon after. “How are you faring, young mistress?” Lord Grisha asks, eyes twinkling kindly down at you.

“I’m doing well, thank you, my lord, although I am a little tired.”

“Ah, not to worry, I believe we sent a bird ahead to announce our coming. Your chambers should be prepared by now. Eren, if you could escort her to her rooms?”

Eren places a hand on the small of your back and smoothly steers you toward the castle, leaving the bustle and commotion behind. You grimace at the sight of the steps you still need to traverse as you pass under the gilded arches separating the courtyard from the keep. “If I could somehow magic myself to the top of that staircase, I would. I swear, these ancient architects did not make allowances for the mundane folk.”

“To be fair to those ancient architects, how were they supposed to know magic won’t always be viable?” Eren says reasonably, then quips, “In the absence of magic, I can carry you, if you’d like.” He shows you his back, eyebrows raised teasingly.

“A tempting offer, but I’ll pass.” You eye him dubiously. “You are entirely too lively for someone who’s been in the saddle for half the day.”

“I do have a lot of stamina. Always handy in long campaigns,” Eren grins, grabbing your wrist and tugging you up the steps unceremoniously. “And if you go any slower, I will carry you up these stairs.”

You stare in disbelief at the back of his head as you try not to trip over the steps in his haste to lead you upwards. Of the five months you have known him personally, you have never seen Eren this chipper. Being home seems to agree with him. You think of the next few months you’re to spend in his company and wonder how on the gods’ green earth you are supposed to keep up with that endless well of energy.

“I’m thinking of having you ride without stirrups today.”

“And what does that accomplish?”

“It should improve your balance.”

It is the day after the Alyfeis, a week after you have arrived in Reicona, and not a day has passed for you without the company of your betrothed. He seemed to be always there, like some djinn from the old times when magic was once a force in this world, summoned to your side by a mere thought. It was like having a shadow, an excessively restive shadow, and you couldn’t quite reconcile the earnest, dutiful squire at court to the boy who hounded your steps at every waking moment.

Zeke had seemed amused by his younger brother’s conduct. “He’s never had much to do here or had someone to spend time with during the autumn reprieve, except for my daughter, and she’s all of four years old,” he told you one day in the library, in one of the rare times you were parted from Eren due to his desire to spar with the master-at-arms. “He’s incredibly fond of Ymir, to be sure, but a tot is no fit companion for a boy close to manhood.” 

Eren had introduced you to little Ymir Jaeger the past week, and you have never seen a more precious child, barring your own baby brother who, incidentally enough, is of an age with Eren’s niece. She has her father’s Fritz looks and a tiny stature; she is a veritable living doll, like the ones you see at the crafts arcade back home, golden-haired and dainty. 

She had stared up at you curiously, and you marvel at her clear and direct gaze, so very like her uncle, as she greeted you in the high, piping voice of a yearling. 

Afterwards, Eren had privately told you how, apparently, the rest of the household had been amazed when Zeke’s wife had fallen pregnant in spite of their notorious relations. “It took them three years, but I’ve always thought they can only fuck if the sheets are dirty,” he had said conspiratorially, then burst into loud laughter as you whacked his arm reproachfully.

This new Eren is proving to be a pleasant surprise. You had seen glimpses of him back in court, especially when he was around Armin, of whom you are already acquainted, although you have not truly gotten to know him on more familiar terms until your betrothal to his closest friend.

The lack of his duties seems to have released the young, carefree boy in Eren. You allow yourself to do the same and feel much better for it. You have not realized how utterly exhausting it is to be endlessly putting on airs and puttering about in Lady Rhyzkova’s shoes which, while easier to wear nowadays, still leaves proverbial blisters on your political feet. It is nice to be just a girl in her fifteenth year every once and a while.

You had been greatly looking forward to delving into the deeper culture of your host city, yet your betrothed seemed to have other priorities, at least for the moment. 

While he had vowed to show you his city in full, he had also taken it upon himself to teach you the finer points of riding. You had not thought that he would deem riding more entertaining than exploring the city, yet you had acquiesced; you will be living there for the whole season, plenty of time to tour to your heart’s content. 

As it is, he had put the offer forward the day you had set off for Reicona, much to your surprise.

“I see you’ve managed to find a fine replacement for your Cadence,” he had remarked, watching as you had softly stroked your new mare’s face and neck, easing her back from the excitement the noise and commotion of the courtyard had caused her.

“She is, isn’t she? Her name is Nightsilver.”

“Nightsilver… a perfect name.” Eren had come over, let Nightsilver sniff his palm and lightly crop at the skin of his hand, running it gently down her sleek neck and admiring the distinct silvery sheen of her coat, a gray so dark it was almost black. “You know, Sir Levi never names his mounts.”

“Why not?”

“Horses die in battle, the same as us. He says it’s harder to see them fall if you name them. Doesn’t stop me from naming them for him. Not that he knows, of course,” he had gleamed at you slyly, making you chuckle. “I’ve lost my share of rounseys myself, but I still name them. Besides, it gets confusing to always refer to them as ‘that gray one’ or ‘the blood bay’ or ‘the black courser.’ Makes things easier.”

His own mount was a beautiful palomino palfrey with a coat that shone almost like liquid gold under the light. “You have a beautiful beast yourself. What’s his name?”

“Goldmoon.”

Gold and silver, and both of the night.

“Nightsilver hasn’t been trained properly yet, has she?”

“No, I’ve just acquired her recently after that debacle during the summer progress. I haven’t had much time with her.” You had had to put down your preceding horse, Cadence, after a chance mishap on the road the month prior.

“I can teach you.” At your look, he had pressed on, “I’m not saying you’re a terrible rider, it wasn’t your fault that tree almost fell on top of you. Some things can’t be helped. But Nightsilver needs to be trained and I can help with that.”

He had made good on that offer. Eren had taken you to the fields behind Highridge the day after you arrived and proceeded to teach you all he knew about riding. He is a surprisingly good teacher, you find, and not least because he sits a saddle like he had been born in one. By the fifth day, you had learned much and more from him.

Today is proving to be no different. “Why do I have to learn this way?” you ask Eren, as he prepares to dismount to put away your stirrups for the day’s lesson. “I think I can improve my balance as I go along naturally. I can sit a saddle well enough, you said so yourself.”

“Yes, but what if you lose your stirrups? What if they break? What if, gods forbid, there’s an attack, and you happen to be there and you needed to get a horse but there’s no saddle? It’s not just about balance. Best to be prepared for anything.” He jumps down from Goldmoon, takes your stirrups, and crosses them out of the way in front of you. “We’ll do a mile at trot, no stirrups,” he says, as he climbs back onto his horse, wheeling him around and glancing back at you keenly.

You give Nightsilver the lightest touch with your knees and start at a walk. So far, so good. You settle yourself a bit more firmly in the saddle, trying to feel more secure in your seat. Ahead, you notice a gathering of clouds almost as dark as Nightsilver’s hide.

“So, how did you find your first true Alyfeis? What did you think of the way it was meant to be celebrated?” Eren asks conversationally, keeping his pace at a sedate walk to match yours.

“It’s… certainly very different.” Two thousand years past, scores of noble Houses from Paradis, the northernmost region of the continent of Anderven to the west, had fled across the seas to escape their would-be conquerors, the Eldians and the monstrous beings they called the Titans. Some of their ships had been blown further south, to the Gleaming Isles of Kayigari; several had been put ashore at Seviros, the continent south of Lovaya and its closest neighbor. Most had landed in Lovaya herself, bringing with them their gods, their people, and their customs. Years of warring with the resident populace eventually gave way to a true integration of both cultures from which the current Lovayans now descend from. As such, the traditional harvest festival of the true Lovayans, the ones now called the Old Blood, came to share the name of the Paradisian festival but not its practice.

It has been two thousand years since the first Paradisian ships had landed upon Lovayan shores, yet some of the old ways still remain.

“You mean deadly dull, compared to the Old Way, apparently,” Eren snorts. “A communal feast of the public is miles better than one confined to our castles, which we do for every bloody celebration, not just the harvest.”

“The temple sacrifice is interesting,” you point out, which is true, at least in your opinion. Full of pomp and circumstance their rites may be, but the temples of the Creed are a feast for the eyes. You have always liked the soaring, domed majesty of their buildings, and Reicona’s temple of the Gardener is no exception.

Eren gives you an unimpressed look. “You seemed to find the temple cats more interesting.”

“Oh, well, you have me there. They’re a lot more appealing to look at than burning crops,” you smile, remembering the darling parti-colored mouser that had chosen to rub itself against your legs during the ceremony, purring loudly. It had taken a tremendous amount of effort not to bend down and scoop the creature into your arms to give it a loving caress. You had indulged yourself afterwards by scratching the chin of a tom you found by the temple steps, watched by a waiting and highly amused Eren.

“They do have their charms, I suppose. Now we trot.” And he surges forward, leaving you gaping slightly at the abruptness of it all. He turns his head to look at you, one corner of his lips turned up into a smirk. The challenge in his eyes wakes the fight in you, and you squeeze your legs on Nightsilver, urging her forward into a trot. “That’s it!” he says, delighted. “Now canter!”

“You said trot!”

“But you’re doing so well,” he grins, and breaks into a canter himself. Not to be outdone, you prompt Nightsilver into her own fast-paced canter. You go faster than you have intended, and somehow, it is exhilarating rather than terrifying. Your legs instinctively grip the mare’s sides, and you keep your balance without the steadying brace of the stirrups. You and Eren canter the length of the field until he slows and comes to a stop. You rein in Nightsilver beside him with a thrilled grin on your face. “That was really good!” he exclaims, beaming all over his sunny face. “I’ll make a rider out of you yet.”

“So I wasn’t a fair rider before, was I?” you sally, yet you are still smiling. It is hard not to in the face of his elation.

“I’ll make a better rider out of you yet,” he amends good-naturedly. “At least I know now you can go for longer rides. You won’t have to use your litter anymore by the time we go back to court.”

“Somehow, I doubt that very much. We can’t all have stamina like you do,” you shake your head at him. The thunderheads you had noticed earlier in the distance seem closer now, you realize, startled, and you turn Nightsilver around to ride back to Highridge.

Eren prods Goldmoon to a walk and takes Nightsilver’s reins from you to lead you himself. “Yes, well, you’ve been making a lot of progress. Nightsilver’s coming along nicely as well. We must accustom her to keep on going steadily and safely, whatever happens around her and whatever you do. I can trust all my horses to do that for me, and they’ve done so, more than once. Those times I was too dazed or hurt to know where I was supposed to go, they’ve always carried me back to safety. You have to be able to trust Nightsilver to do the same for you.” His face suddenly grows troubled. “There’s been more unrest in the North lately, have you noticed? More and more of these outlaw bands seem to be cropping up. The North has always been unruly, I know, but we’re being sent out against them more and more often. I’ve never had this many campaigns before in a single year…”

You have the most esteemed Consul to thank for that. The king’s open-handedness with his favorite has naturally drawn ire and jealousy within the court, yet it is not only the highborn who have cause to complain. The commons are feeling the blowback of this favor, and the Northmen are forced to watch as lands long held by their forebears are peopled with strangers, Midlanders, the Consul’s men, as the king, in his carelessness, attempts to rewrite the map for the man he would honor above all others. Objections from the Houses of Pixis and Skaryn have fallen on deaf ears.

“We thought it was an ambush, that day with the tree,” Eren continues somberly. “Thank the gods it wasn’t, yet it wouldn’t have been surprising… the northern roads have been more dangerous nowadays.” 

The royal steward had not dared to lead the progress too deep into the heart of the North, planning stops in lands run by lords still amiable to the crown and avoiding the borders of Herstadt, Egstatten, and Zheletov, the provinces where hostilities were the thickest. 

You recall the explosion of terror and chaos when the tree came crashing out of nowhere, narrowly avoiding being brained and thrown out of your saddle, Cadence’s attempt at a mad dash failing as he tore a foreleg breaking free from the branches he managed to entangle himself in, finally throwing you out of your saddle, dazed and frightened and bewildered. 

Fortunately, it had only been an old dry husk finally giving way to rot and decay. It had been your singular misfortune to be in its path as it gave up its last hold on the earth. You had emerged shaken and scraped, yet ultimately unharmed.

“The North has never taken lightly to outsiders, you know that. And,” you lower your voice, though there is no one around you but a pair of Jaeger house guards keeping watch over a mile away by the arch leading into Highridge, “with Willy Tybur encroaching on the border, royal sentiment is not at its best.”

A frown creases Eren’s brow. “Politics,” he utters the word like a curse. “I hate politics. All these lords scheming, plotting, and conniving, always tearing each other down in their climb to power… I’d much prefer to spar with swords than words. Thank the gods I’m not the firstborn.”

“Politics still govern your every day, whether you like it or not,” you say in the voice of Lady Rhyzkova, and it is a marked enough difference that Eren raises his brow at you. “You can’t tell me there are no games of power and factions amongst knights. Even amongst the commons, the farmers, the peasants, there are still little parties, groups hoping to exert some sort of influence over something, even if it is as trivial as the alehouse.”

“Spoken like a true politician, my lady,” Eren remarks dryly, and a look flashes across his face, vanishing almost as fast as it had come, too fast for you to see and comprehend. “I’ll leave the posturing and factions to you political lot. I’ll keep to my sword and the battlefield.” A peal of thunder rumbles overhead, and Eren looks up with a curse, before spurring Goldmoon into a trot, leaving you no choice but to do the same as he had not let go of your reins as yet. “Oh, before I forget, we’re riding bareback tomorrow.”

“They make a pretty picture, don’t they?”

Zeke lets out a soft huff of laughter. “The lad doesn’t let her stray too far out of his sight. I’m glad he finally has someone to entertain him apart from Ymir. It’s good to see him not wandering the halls bored out of his wits for a season.”

“At any rate, this is better than we could have hoped for. They seem to like each other well enough, we are at least assured of an easy union between them,” his father says, turning his back to this quaint sight and dropping heavily to the emerald velvet seat of the divan in his solar.

Unlike mine, huh, father? Zeke tamps down that familiar surge of resentment at the thought and gazes down through the leaded window at his little brother and his little lady making their way back to the main keep. This is yet another thing his father had stinted him on and handed to Eren on a silver platter, yet Zeke cannot find it in himself to begrudge the boy. He loves his brother and wishes him much joy of his little Southron lady.

“I’m glad to see we still have one thing that’s going well for us these days.”

Zeke considers his father pensively, gaze lingering on dark circles partly obscured by lenses, the new lines etched at the sides of mouth and eye, and feels commiseration for his sire. He can never truly reconcile his many feelings towards this man. “That matter with the port fees was a lot of nasty business.”

Grisha pulls a face, running a hand over his eyes and knocking his lenses askew. “Gods be good, be thankful my office is not hereditary, else you’ll have a heavier burden to bear.” He gets ponderously to his feet, and Zeke can see the effort it took for him to do such a simple task. “And this matter with the North… that accident with the tree the past summer just hammers home the notion that we’re all up in arms when it comes to that part of the country. I shudder to think what would happen if I ever do step down…”

A pair of servants enters the solar and bows before their masters, then proceeds to light the candles and the hearth amidst the gathering gloom of the steadily darkening sky outside. 

Grisha had already left, Zeke notes absently. He stands and glances at what little he can now see of the backyard through the window. It is all well and good to speak of heavy burdens. As the heir of his House, he supposes for the umpteenth time, he could not afford to be coddled as much as a second son often is. Still, a little consideration every now and again will not be unwelcome… He leaves the solar, following the familiar path to the living quarters.

Outside, the rain begins to pour.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

***

A/N:

Ah, I really enjoyed writing this chap, the horse riding scene is one of my faves in my outline, hahaha! Very much inspired by a scene from The Lady of the Rivers by Philippa Gregory, which is actually one of my inspos and refs for this fic.

Also, if there are somehow any equine enthusiasts out there, I’m sorry if I botched some details 🙇‍♀️

Again, many thanks to Kana and Sandra for being such lovely betas!

Tagging: @princess-jaeger​

[rotworld]

2: Centaur

it’s said that only pure virgin maidens can call a unicorn, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

->explicit. contains horse genitalia, weird sex magic to enable human-to-horse genitalia compatibility, dubcon/noncon, semi-public sex, implications of mind-altering magic, gore, murder, kidnapping.

.

.

.

You’ve never seen anything so beautiful.

The meadow is in full bloom, a sea of brilliance. Here, a profusion of daisies. There, a carpet of poppies. Asters and yarrow and little clovers, flowers you’ve never heard of, colors you didn’t know existed, bloom as far as the eye can see. There are starbursts, blue as the sea, that smell of salt and sand, and cones of pink blossoms that glitter in the light. Petals dance in a gentle breeze like prismic rain, carrying a soft, sweet scent. It feels like a dream. You’re knee-deep in flowers beneath a cloudless sky.

“This is impossible,” you say softly, afraid to disturb the peace. Your fingers graze a curving stem, heavy with bluebells. “It’s autumn. The leaves should be turning. How is everything so green?” 

The king’s men sigh tiredly, looking uncomfortable and terribly out of place in their clanking armor. “Unicorn,” they say, the only word they seem to know. Why are the winds so gentle here, spring-sweet and warm? Unicorn. Why is the water crystal clear and sparkling, the perfect temperature for both a quenching drink and a quick rinse of your dirtied hands? Unicorn. Why couldn’t you see the meadow until you crossed the river and passed a certain willow tree? Unicorn, obviously. They shake their heads at you like you don’t know anything.

“Sit here,” one of them tells you, pointing to a spot among the daffodils. 

Another one stops you just as you’re kneeling in the grass. “No, no, wait, over there is better. There are lilies. Lilies are a symbol of virginity.”

“I think the roses would be best,” a third chimes in. “Seems very maiden-like, doesn’t it? That’s what a maiden would pick, I think, if a maiden were out here, picking flowers.” The other knights nod sagely. “Then it’s decided. Over there by the roses, please. Here, sit with your legs folded like this…”

You roll your eyes. You can’t believe how seriously they’re taking the stupid little details. This whole expedition is a lost cause. It doesn’t matter how much they pretty you up, dressing you in this flowing gown and making you wander barefoot among the flowers. You’re a sheepherder, not a waifish little girl. A unicorn can tell the difference. But the king must really be desperate, because the knights are insistent as they correct your posture, smooth out your hair, and inspect you from every angle.

“Good. Perfect,” one of them says, nodding at his handiwork. “We’ll get into position. Do,” he pauses, waving his hand vaguely, “maiden things. Sing songs. Braid your hair. Whatever it is maidens do.” You watch them clang and clatter away to the treeline, hiding poorly among the rocks and flower bushes. You relish in the space and freedom, flopping on your back in the grass. You couldn’t care less if a unicorn comes or not. The fields are yellowed and prickly at home, nothing like the beautiful softness of this meadow. Your cousin agreed to watch your sheep for the day, so you don’t have a care in the world. You close your eyes and let eternal spring wash over you. 

You open your eyes to darkness.

You sit up slowly, groaning and groggy. You must’ve drifted off. Petals fall from your gown as you yawn and rub your eyes. Snoring drifts from the trees; the knights fast asleep. You stand up to stretch, only to find a new, fantastic landscape stretched before you. The meadow is tinged silvery blue in moonlight. New flowers, unopened buds just hours ago, bloom with a faint glow. A river of stars shines overhead. This must be the dream, you think, or maybe you’ve been dreaming since you crossed the river. Everything about the meadow is otherworldly, a place of beauty and gentleness unlike anything you’ve ever known.

And then you hear it. Softly at first and indistinct, but nearing, gradually louder. A rhythmic gait, too heavy for a human, too pronounced for fleshy feet. Hoofbeats. Your breath catches in your throat. You scramble to your feet and look around. Auroras shimmer above you, rippling ribbons of green. Night breeze blows across the meadow and the grass whispers at your ankles. You see him, trotting across the meadow. You see him and there are tears in your eyes. You realize you’ve never known beauty until this moment.

The unicorn is the color of night, black and deepest blue. His mane shimmers, woven with gemstones and glittering flower buds, and his horn shines like polished onyx. He is a man from the waist up, silver eyed and handsome. There are scars along his broad shoulders, puckered skin that healed a lighter gray. Beneath the waist, muscle twists and transforms into long equine legs. His gait is leisurely, a smile tugging at his lips. 

“My oh my, what do we have here?” he says. His voice is velvety smooth and alluring. Your apprehension melts away even as he stops before you, his front legs bending so you’re face to face. A heavy, coat-like fabric rests across the back of his horse body, royal purple and delicately embroidered with intricate floral patterns. He reaches for you, slender fingers curling along your jaw. You’re sure of it now. This is all just a dream. The unicorn chuckles, a warm and rumbling sound that fills you with heat. “You’re wide awake, little one.”

“You can read my thoughts?” 

“I can read more than that.” His smile widens and he stands to his full height. You fidget nervously as he walks in a slow circle around you, a hand beneath his chin. His hooves kick up petals and glittering pollen with every step. “Hmm, let’s see...a shepherd! How precious. What gentle hands. Ah, but a solitary life. You’ve not known a lover’s touch in quite some time.” Your face heats in embarrassment. His palm trails across your back as he passes behind you, squeezing your shoulder. 

“I thought unicorns only came to pure maidens,” you say. His every touch sends sparks across your skin. You can feel his warmth through the flimsy, thin fabric of your gown. At that, his smile gains a sharp edge, almost predatory. It’s gone as quickly as it came.

“What a delight you are,” he murmurs. “Coming all this way was worthwhile after all.” He begins to walk and you follow without being asked. There are flowers all around you but you pay them no mind now, too entranced by the beautiful creature beside you. You don’t know if you go far or not, time and distance rendered meaningless in the dreamlike embrace of the meadow. He leads you to a large, mossy rock formation, the stone sheared away to leave an unnaturally flat surface. You look back over your shoulder, remembering the knights. Did they sleep through all of this? Should you say something? The unicorn’s hand cups your chin, dragging your gaze back to him. His breathtaking smile obliterates all thoughts of anything else. 

“The stories are an exaggeration,” he tells you. He guides you gently, hands on your shoulders, to sit on the stone. His legs fold beneath him and he sits, his hands carding through your hair. The affection and desire in every touch, every gentle scratch of his fingers against your scalp, makes you hotter. “We appear to whomever we wish to appear to. But I confess, some of us do have a soft spot for virgins.” He presses a sharp kiss to your lips, nipping at you. “We enjoy teaching them pleasure,” he hisses, and pushes you suddenly onto your back. The gown is pulled from your body, discarded in the grass. Night air caresses your bare skin and you squirm beneath his wandering gaze.

Somehow, it only occurs to you now what his intentions are. The gentle caresses, the sensual touches and the heat in his gaze didn’t feel real. They still don’t, but now, naked and at the mercy of his hungry eyes, you understand. “You...you want me?” you say, your voice small in embarrassment. When you say it out loud, it sounds even more ridiculous, but there’s no mistaking this. He rests his arms across your abdomen, gazing up at you with fondness and longing. 

“I do,” he says. “Very, very much. Would you let me have you?” 

You bite your lip, your body trembling as he slips a hand between your legs and just grazes your sex with his fingertips. The touch is teasing, too fleeting, and leaves you aching for more. You nod shakily and he hums, pleased at your acquiescence. “What’s your name?”

He looks rather charmed that you asked, warmth filling his gaze. “I am Myurva,” he says. You give him your name in return and the way he says it back to you, the lascivious purr, makes you squirm. The unicorn rests his hands on your knees, gently but firmly easing them apart. “Spread your legs for me, lovely. I want to see you.” 

Myurva’s seduction is slow and patient even as you writhe and beg him for more. He opens you on his fingers, soothing your frenzied whimpers with sweet nothings and loving whispers of your name. You’ve never been treated with such devotion, such smothering lust and affection. He touches you like the love of his life, kisses tenderly and messily, drags his hand along your side and savors the way you move for him. “So very worth it,” he murmurs, kissing your inner thigh. He has two fingers inside you, caressing your walls and curling just right to reach the spot that makes you shriek. “How fortunate I am to have found you, lovely. I want to keep you. I want to spoil you each and every night.” 

You’re keening for him, sobbing with need, when he flips you onto your stomach. You hardly notice. You spread your legs when you feel his hands on you, kneading your ass. Everything is hot and electrifying, hazy with pleasure. Then his front hooves land heavily in the grass near your head and something enormous rubs against you. “Wait,” you say shakily. You hear a chuckle above you. The fleshy end of Myurva’s cock slides against your ass, smearing precum along your spine. Your heart skips a beat feeling the sheer size of it against you. There’s no way. It’s impossible. You try to push yourself up on your elbows and one of his hooves stamps dangerously near your head. 

“I thought you wanted me, lovely,” he says. He thrusts again, the length of him slipping between your thighs and grinding against your sex. “If you move, I’ll have to chase you. You won’t get far.” 

“You won’t fit,” you tell him, voice pitched in desperation. Trying to squirm just makes him rest his weight against you, crushing you between the stone and the bulk of his body. “You’re going to break me!”

“I’ll go slow,” Myurva purrs. He demonstrates with a slow grind, a gradual roll of his hips. His heated flesh feels so good against you. “I’ll be so, so careful with you. Don’t you remember the stories? I enjoy virgins. I haven’t harmed a single one. They wander the woods in search of me, begging to feel my cock again.” You hear his back hooves shifting, repositioning behind you. He lines himself up and his cock prods against your opening. “Let me show you,” he urges. “Let me bring you pleasure you’ve never known.” He grinds against you again, hot pressure building as he begins to push inside. You gasp his name, beg him to wait, to go slow, to give you a moment to collect yourself, but he chuckles and presses harder.

Your nails rake against the stone and your vision whites out. The burn of the stretch becomes a tingling sensation, numb at first and then blindly pleasurable, lighting sparks in your belly. It shouldn’t be possible but you feel the head inside of you. The pain is a dull ache but every movement chases it away, pleasure washing over you. He rocks his hips and the steady, shallow thrusts push him deeper. True to his word, he fucks into you agonizingly slowly, panting and moaning

“How do you feel, lovely?” he asks, his voice strained. He’s holding back, you realize, his hooves stomping restlessly as he makes small, unconscious thrusts to feel you wrapped around him. “Let me in deeper. Let me fuck you properly. You won’t regret it.”

You don’t think he can get deeper. You try to tell him as much, but a hard thrust knocks the breath out of you. The fullness makes your head spin. You feel yourself pushing back against him despite all of the sensations, the ache inside of you, the impossibility of the whole situation in the back of your mind. He makes a breathy, choked sound and then laughs, fucking you harder. “Ohhh, that’s it. Just like that. I knew you’d love this.” You can hear his cock slamming into your body, can feel the weight of his heavy balls slapping your ass with every thrust. You feel like a cocksleeve, a snug toy for him to fuck. The force of his thrusts drags you back and forth over the stone, scraping up your chest, but the pain is nothing compared to the pleasure he gives you. 

Someone is screaming, crying Myurva’s name into the night. You barely recognize your own voice, the needy pitch, the tremor in every word. You’re so full, so unbearably stuffed with cock, no longer trying to meet his thrusts but letting him move you, ruining you for any human partner. Your knees bruise on the stone. Your toes curl. Your cries build to a frenzied crescendo and you cum impaled on his enormous cock, shaking, panting his name.

“Lovely,” he moans, an obscene sound leaving his lips as your inner muscles clamp down on his cock. “Gods above, darling, I’m going to fill you.” He fucks you wildly, no rhythm, no caution, his whole cock slamming into you as hard and deep as he can get. You can’t move. The whole world turns white-hot and blinding. You go limp, gasping weakly as Myurva begins to grunt, his cock pulsing, his whole length crammed inside you.

You thought you were full already, but then he cums. You feel him straining on top of you, his whole weight thrown forward as he fucks ropes of thick cum into your body. It foams up around his length and makes obscene, slick sounds. You feel it overflowing, trickling down your thighs. It feels like it goes on forever, his moans, his deep, straining thrusts, his cock pouring more and more cum into your body until his balls empty and he finally, with a satisfied sigh, pulls out. 

You make an undignified sound at the sudden emptiness, and the rush of cum that follows. You’re grateful for the stone beneath you, cool against your sweat-soaked skin. Your legs are jelly. You don’t know if you’ll ever walk again. Myurva’s front hooves lift, stepping back from the stone. His human hand caresses your cheek. “You’re truly something, lovely,” he says quietly. “I spoke in jest of keeping you, but now...it’s difficult to resist the temptation.” 

You try to speak but only manage an incoherent murmur of noise. He chuckles and strokes your hair. Distantly, you’re aware of other noises than the two of you. Shouting. Footeps. Clattering steel. You remember suddenly that you aren’t alone out here, arms struggling to lift you. The knights. How could you forget? Shame heats your face. How long have they been awake? How much did they see? How much did they hear? Myurva shushes your protests, pressing a gentle hand on the small of your back. “Rest,” he says. You don’t think you’re capable of doing much else, anyway.

You hear a commotion behind you. The knights, shouting in outrage, drawing swords. Are they going to hurt Myurva? Your eyes widen and you try again, uselessly, to lift yourself and see what’s happening. The unicorn gives you one last gentle caress and leaves you, his hoofbeats stopping somewhere between you and the knights.

“At last, you show yourself!” the knights exclaim. You manage to roll onto your side, craning your neck to see them surrounding Myurva, but he doesn’t look concerned. He glances around, examining each of the men. 

“Let’s see,” he murmurs. “Subjects of King Cornelius. And you want…” The corner of his lips twitch in amusement. “A hostage? Is that right? Your people have no claim over our mountains. A hostage will not change this. My king does not negotiate.” His words are ignored. The knights are wary but they do not back down. You feel like a fool. Why didn’t you ask them what they wanted the unicorn for? You assumed it was something trivial, a silly princess who wanted a pet. Nothing like this. 

Myurva glances back at you. His silver eyes catch the moonlight and glint dangerously. Those are a predator’s eyes, you realize. A thing that hunts and stalks the night. “You worry for me, lovely?” he purrs. “Your every emotion is so tender. I really must keep you. But, alas,” he chuckles, turning back to the knights, “business first, my sweet.”

You hadn’t looked all that carefully at the fabric across the back of his body. You hadn’t noticed the sword sheaths hanging there, hidden beneath the drapes and tassels. You hear steel scraping steel as he unsheathes twin blades, long and curved, as strikingly silver as his eyes. One of the knights tries to say something. “Come quietly,” or some other meaningless thing. He never finishes speaking. You hardly see Myruva move. A flash of silver, a rush of air; that’s all it takes. The knight’s head falls from his shoulders, and his body sinks to the ground soon after. The others begin to scream and scatter, but they’ll never get away. There’s no outrunning a unicorn. 

Laying there upon the stone, you see everything. Prey fleeing and predator giving chase. Swords clashing. Flesh pierced and mangled. Myurva tramples one of them, snaps the man’s ribs with glee in his shining eyes. Their armor does nothing but trap them in slow, awkward shells, easy prey to catch and dismantle. The unicorn moves like a whirlwind across the meadow, death his shadow. Blood soaks the soil and splatters the flowers, almost black in the night. 

You’re on your knees when it’s over, hunched over the stone with your legs in the grass. You can’t stand. You can’t run. You can’t do anything but turn and see Myurva standing there, fresh blood dripping from his swords. He smiles at the sight of you, the shivers wracking your body. “You didn’t know,” he assures you. “I can read you, remember?” He wipes the blood from his blades, sheathing them at his side once again. You flinch when he comes closer, sitting in the grass beside you. You smell the carnage on him. The fingers that tuck your hair behind your ear are wet and warm. “Pleased to meet you,” he purrs. “I’m Myurva, the royal spymaster. And you are the loveliest little human I’ve ever seen.”

You protest weakly when he scoops you up in his arms, standing suddenly. You’re vaguely aware of moving, of being carried somewhere. You fight to cling to consciousness, but it’s slowly slipping out of your grasp. “Hush,” Myurva coos, kissing your forehead. “We’ve a long ways to go and you’re in no condition to ride me just yet. But, eventually…” He chuckles, one of his hands cupping your backside. “Eventually, we’ll have all the time in the world to do whatever we like, won’t we?”

[hoaqins-funk-house]

Springtrap

Yandere

Male Reader

You can read part 1 here

Part 2

Quietly whistling, you enter the building, locking the door behind you and turning into the office, finding the familiar tall man leaning against the wall above the vent.

“Welcome back, Y/N. You ready?” 

You stretch, as per usual, humming. “As I’ll ever be.”

He walks past you, patting your shoulder with a grin as he murmurs two words into your ear.

“Good luck.”

You deadpan as his teasing hits you, watching him wave as he passes the glass. Sighing, you plop down into the chair, cursing as your tailbone hits the metal again. You follow William with the cameras, him speedily making his way back to the last room, where he motions to the vent next to him, crossing his arms in an x.

You nod to yourself. He isn’t going to go in that vent, as it would give him the unfair advantage of being in a vent where you can’t block him off.

When he smirks at the camera and slinks into the shadows, you sigh, beginning your defense.

-

It was five when you really lost him. He was nowhere to be found. 

You had exasperated a few more shades, excluding the one who seemed to really enjoy being about three inches from your face at all times. You didn’t really mind him, though; he was pretty hot.

Your brother wasn’t wrong when he called you ‘gayboy.’

Still, looking up, you see the man with a ripped up uniform staring down at you amusedly, his hand placed on the glass. Quickly, you play audio in the room to his left, making his grin lower as he gets led away by his body, you playing another sound in a further room before resetting audio.

You hear his rapid steps as audio reboots, watching him dart across the glass before finding him at the door frame. You lock eyes with him, a drop of sweat flowing down your cheek. Hearing the audio finish rebooting, you blindly grasp at the camera pad, violently and repeatedly pressing the sound button in a vain attempt to lure him away. Audio broke again because of how quickly you were spamming the button.

Right before he could take a step into your office, the bell chimes, and you shove the camera pad away from you, face hitting the desk with a thump as you let out a relieved sigh, feeling the stress leave your body.

“Hmm. You did quite well, all things considered.” William praises, watching amusedly as you wearily raise your hand, curled in a thumbs up. 

“I think I aged about a decade.” You groan, pushing yourself up to face your hunter for the night. You breathe heavier than usual, hair either sticking out or to your face from sweat, along with the light flush that comes with occasionally losing your oxygen supply.

It’s a sight he plans to see again; granted, not in this context.

“I’ll take that as a sign of quality pursuing.” He states, further entertained by your half-hearted glare. “What, do you have a problem with that?”

“You’re too good.” You say.

His brow quirks at your words. “Too good?”

“Yes, too good a pursuer. And you know what?”

“What?”

“Feeling like your prey for fifteen minutes was enough to completely wipe me. A whole six hours would genuinely kill me.”

He laughs, ignoring the feeling he gets from you calling yourself his prey.

“Well, I’ll just have to hunt to your limit. Now... isn't your shift over? Or do you just want to stay the day with me?” His grin makes his offer into what would easily be interpreted as a joke.

“Something came up, unfortunately. I would stay and chat, but it seems I must be going.”

Of course, this is you we’re talking about.

William was somewhat taken aback. You said you would?! 

You would stay back to talk with him?

He practically short-circuits, lips slightly open in shock. He only comes back to reality with the feeling of your hand running through his hair, ruffling it. Instinctually, he grabs it, looking at the hand in his grip and then at you, a small smile on your face. 

“Should I not-”

“No, you may. I just… wasn’t expecting it, is all.” He cuts you off, releasing your warm hand and watching with a pang of disappointment as your hand lowers, you stepping away. With a wave, you turn. 

“See you tomorrow, William.” 

He nods nearly breathlessly as you exit the building, lifting a hand and letting his fingers drift over his chest. 

A pulse.

… 

Then another.

…

And another.

His gaze lifts from his hand to the door you had exited through, expression shocked before his eyelids droop once more, lips forming a drunken grin. 

You are his, the one he needs most, his perfect prize and his perfect prey.

You, who gave a corpse his heartbeat.

It’s about 17 hours later that you stumble in, Your frazzled state catching William off guard. You slouch over as you walk, the dark color under your eyes speaking to how many hours of sleep you got. 

Entering the office, you, for once, sit down calmly in your chair, your head hitting the table in front of you. You turn to face the rabbit-eared man, eyes half-lidded and dull.

“I came in an hour early to sleep, if you don’t mind…” You drawl, him grimacing at your state.

“Feel free to.” 

He hums as your eyes shut, and he watches your body fully untense, noting the chair slowly rolling out from beneath you. Your face is peaceful, nearly the same expression you gave him on the first night after first meeting him face-to-face.

He sighs, stepping closer and grabbing your midsection right before you would've fallen. Your eyes don't even open, but you quietly groan, continuing to sleep as the man considers his options. 

He can rest you on the floor? 

No, when you wake up you'll need to peel yourself off of it.

He can put you back in the chair?

You'll probably fall out of it.

There is that staff room he found… 

Eh, it's his best option.

There's a couch in there, too.

He lifts you onto his back in order to not continue holding you like a wet towel, walking out of the office and into the area where cam three was active, finding the door in between a few props. Opening it, he feels the floor beneath his bare feet shift from grimy tile to thin carpet, colored black, along with a dark, ugly green couch. There’s a vent on the wall, a secret entrance to your office’s vent.

As he goes to place you down on the couch, he realizes that your arms are wrapped around his collar, head leaning into his. 

He regrets not paying attention earlier, as you were practically a heating pad. His arms, very loosely circling your legs, release as he leans closer to the couch, hovering with his back over it before realizing that, hey, you were asleep!

So, he lets himself turn, your arms still wrapped around the back of his neck, instead holding you up on his front.

Now, he decides to lay down on the couch, his tall physique making his legs have to be propped up on one arm of the couch. You lay on top of him, head nestled in the crook of his neck, allowing him to feel your soft breaths across his skin.

His arms wrap around you, feeling your warmth. With a small, satisfied grin, he feels the slightest flush cross his cheeks as you nuzzle closer. You were made for him; made to fit perfectly against him, made to be his, forever.

He doesn’t even notice as his eyelids drift down, consciousness fading. 

Goodnight, Y/N.

-

It was to the chime of the bell that you woke up, letting out a small sigh before you begin to take in your circumstances, eyes still not open. 

You fell asleep at work, but it certainly isn't midnight, as the bell had just chimed. It also isn't the chair you fell asleep in.

As they shift around you, holding you tighter to him, you realize that arms surround you, and that it seems likely you're sleeping on the rabbit man. 

Before you try to roll over and off of him (which was a dumb idea; William would've fallen with you), you feel him wake up based on the rumbles in his chest as he lowly groans.

You sigh, half-heartedly pushing yourself up. "Good morning, William."

His eyes shoot open, and he looks down, noting you and the position you were both in. "Mind letting me go?" 

"Uh- yes, sure." He releases you, allowing you to get off of him, stretching with a yawn. Meanwhile, William was reeling. 

You, saying good morning?

Your rusty morning voice?

You, apparently not caring about how you were just asleep on top of him?

Actually, he almost wishes you did care about it; you being embarrassed would be adorable.

"So… where is this?" You ask, looking over your shoulder at the man as he sits up, already feeling the void of your warmth.

"We're in the staff room. The door leads right into the attraction." 

You hum, nodding, him standing with a small sigh before standing at your side, his hand placing itself on your shoulder. 

"Nevermind that - what exactly made you into a walking corpse? Don't you know I already have that role covered?" He asks, a joking tone in his voice. You smile.

"Well, remember the funerals I got off my main job for? I had to go to one." You sigh, feeling his understanding shoulder pat. 

"How unfortunate that you had to do the thing you were getting off of work to do." 

That understanding shoulder pat turns sour!

"Listen. I, uh, can't really argue with that…"

William smirks. "No, you can't."

You sigh again, defeated. "Well, I need to head home. Thank you for letting me sleep through my shift, by the way. You make for a spectacular bed." It is with those parting words that you exit the room, not even allotting him the time to process your words.

Stiffly, he stands, following you out the door and back into the main area of the building, where the last he sees of you for some hours is the door closing behind you. 

He finds that watching you leave each night makes the cold emptiness hit him once more, returning him to a state similar to how he was when trapped. His lips, previously in a stricken pout, now fall into a scowl. 

You, you, you…

He fell asleep easily and dreamt of a peaceful void when you were there. But now that you aren't…

His dreams will never be calm. That brief instance of tranquility was like a drug to him; he wants more, the quiet, warm existence in a space consisting of nothing. Nothing to bring him pain. Nothing to bring him fear. 

But, nothing to bring him joy.

If he stays with you, will his dreams return to light? Will he feel your arms wrapped around him, holding him close as he buries his face into the crook of your neck?

Letting out a shuddering breath, he forcefully breaks himself out of his thoughts, looking down at his hands as they shake. Lifting one to his face, he feels his mouth in a wide grin. 

He already knows what he wants. 

He already knows what he needs to do.

But he needs to be patient.

-

As you reenter the building, William perks up to the sound of the door closing behind you. He purposefully replaces his wide, unsettling grin with a casual smirk, entering the hallway and seeing you. 

He will never get tired of you in your uniform.

You lift your head to meet his gaze, hearing him approach. He waves through the glass, you doing the same thing in return. You, per usual, stretch your arms above your head, feeling them get grabbed by William. Looking up at him, you raise an eyebrow, not noticing his grin. 

“Say, could you get out of that seat real quick?”

You hum in confirmation, him releasing your wrists as you stand.

You deadpan as he takes the seat, sitting down in it. "Wow. Asshole."

He laughs. "Think of this as charity."

"I'll think of it as what it is, thievery." You huff, sitting on the desk as a replacement for your stolen chair.

He laughs again. 

You roll your eyes, leaning your head on your arm, which is propped up on your leg. "I think the dude who got you made a really good choice."

William pauses. "Okay, now I think you're actually flirting with me."

"Take it as you will. But what I mean is he made a great choice for a horror attraction in finding you. Your big form is scary as hell, what with the actual organs about to spill out and stuff. Your human form… I wouldn't describe you as scary. Intimidating to someone who doesn't know you, maybe, but not scary."

"And what makes me... intimidating?" He asks, face forming into an amused expression as he watches you deadpan for a moment at his tone.

"Your scars, sure, but the main thing is your height. You're like, what, 6'7?"

"I was still quite tall when I was fully human, too."

"Really? How tall?"

"Around 6'4 or 6'5."

You whistle. "Damn, you didn't even grow that much, even when you got a boost from the suit. Actually, how does that even work?" 

"The suits? Well, when bodies are shoved into the suits and become trapped, their souls begin to merge with the vessel. For me, it took a long time, because I was around your age, but for the other suits…" He pauses, flicking one of the bobbleheads. "It didn't take them very long at all."

You nod. "Because they were kids… I never understood it."

His brow lifts. "Never understood what?"

"Why someone would kill them, and 11 of them at that. Kids can be annoying, sure, but… they still deserve a chance to grow." Your eyes focus on the ground, brows drawn together.

"I see." He responds, silent other than those words. You don't notice how his expression turns cold, lips in a downward curve. His reason for slaughtering the kids is simple. 

He wanted to. 

You look up, his face shifting to solemnity. 

You offer him a weak grin. "Sorry 'bout bringing that up, it's a bit heavy."

"No, it's fine."

You hum, leaning back while your hands grip the edge of the table. "I think I'm gonna miss this. The fifteen-something minutes we got here."

He tilts his head, so you take that as a sign to elaborate. "Tomorrow's my last day. I can still visit, of course, but I'll be heading back to my job on Tuesday."

His eyes widen as he processes it. Of course, it was never going to be permanent. The pay was shit, and you even told him that you had a month off, nothing more. 

He doesn't want to let you go, not when you're right there, not when you won't be showing yourself as often. 

"You good?" You ask, him nodding as his gaze shifts quickly to the door you leave through. All he needs to do is block it, then you'll be forced to go through the whole attraction if you want an immediate exit.

"Yes, just wondering how often you'll stop by." His eyes shift back to yours. Of course, he hadn't even considered the question. He knows there isn't any need to worry, not when you'll be at his side the whole time. He'll bind you to him, make it impossible for you to escape.

"I should be able to on weekends, and maybe Wednesdays? It depends on my schedule. So at least twice a week." You smile, the slight head tilt adding to the charm. "It's good to know I've made an impact on someone here, though. William, I really do enjoy your company."

His soft smile holds a hint of euphoria. 

You enjoy his company? 

He hopes you will feel the same over the years. His idea… 

He knows exactly how to do it.

"I enjoy yours as well."

"Well, I'd hope. Me waking up on top of you would've been a bit more awkward if you didn't." You chuckle, his smile slightly widening.

Of course, it couldn't happen tonight.

"I suppose so."

Your brow raises, arms crossing. "You sure you're good? You seem rather… subdued." You question.

He shrugs, feeling the strange warmth form in the pit of his stomach as he hears you worry for him. "I'm just a bit tired, I suppose. Sleeping last night threw me off." Well, he is actually a bit tired.

You nod, still feeling as if something is off. "I can get that. When I got home last night, I immediately crawled into bed and passed out again."

"You were still tired?"

"Well, seven hours isn't much when I had stayed up for over 40. Wait, you were tired? Animatronic-corpse-hybrid-whatevers can get tired?"

His casual grin returns. "Especially in this form, yes. I'm still a close-enough-to-living-thing to get tired normally." 

"Huh. How strange." You simply respond, eyes slipping upwards and not noticing as he rolls forward. 

"Hey, could you hold out your hand real quick? Like this." He holds out his hand in a way similar to how you grab a drink, you copying him with a slightly confused expression. With that, he rolls slightly closer, and after closing his eyes, rests his head on your hand, your fingers cupped over his cheek.

You feel your brain lag.

Your mouth opens once, you soon figuring out that whatever you would say would be incomprehensible, so it's best to not even try.

William lets out a breath, seeming to deflate into your touch. A few moments later, his eyes open to the sound of the 6 am bell and the sight of your somewhat flushed face. He leans away, leaving you still very confused. "Thanks for that." 

"You're… welcome?" 

He's already missing your touch. "Well, we should both get some rest, tomorrow's your final night." But certainly not your last with him. William rolls back, giving you the space to get off of your desk.

You nod slowly. "Uh-yeah. That's true." Sliding off of the desk, you let out a small groan while you stretch, a lot of air hissing into the noise. After you shake your head to clear it, you send a smile towards William before beginning to leave. "Well, I'll see you tomorrow." 

"Of course." He responds. When he hears the click of the door, he stands up. He needs to get some rest if he wants to be in top shape. 

His lips curl into a sneer, already knowing his plan would be successful. 

Exiting the room, he heads to the back of the attraction, returning to his animatronic form and standing in the spot he started all of this in. 

Tomorrow. 

Tomorrow.

Part 3

[antlersandtails]

did i die? god, i wish.

am i back? you bet your fuckin ass i am.

DEMON DREAMS

ALASTOR X GN!READER

WARNINGS: NONE

The hotel was quiet, even for its normal lack of customers and residents flowing through the front doors. The Pentagram suspended in the sky outside had darkened to represent what you’d grow accustomed to as nighttime, and everyone down here and their brother that managed to fuck up their life knew nighttime was far worse than any other time of the day. Thus, the doors were locked and the lights were all turned low, and the only sort of noise besides the occasional groan of the walls was the music leaking from under Angel’s door across the first floor.

A long, groaning yawn escaped the back of your throat as you tucked the broom and dustpan in the kitchen’s back closet. You’d been busting your ass lately trying to pick up your responsibilities around the place, and since there were so few of you, that meant working overtime until it was all done. Sure, Charlie told you to take your time and followed it with a nervous laugh, but by the time you got to it after you’d put it off, there was twice as much to do. So, you figured, it was better to get it all over with.

You dragged your feet slightly as you made your way toward the lobby to the elevators, leaving marks on the red carpet beneath your heels. The neon green lights of the bar set against the lobby’s back wall met you as you entered the long hallway, hurting your eyes slightly in the dim lighting. You ran a finger across the counter as you passed; thank the Overlords that Husk had finally started wiping it down before leaving his post for the night.

Speaking of Overlords, you wondered as you continued on, where was your resident Radio Demon? A gentle smile, albeit a rather creepy one - you yourself were a demon, after all - at the thought. You and Alastor had only been courting for a few months now, but that was hardly any reason to say you were anything short of what he called ‘affectionate’. It had taken a long time to coax the man into looking your way with that special glint in his eye, and once you finally had, you knew there was no escaping the web you’d gotten yourself roped into.

When you reached the edge of the lobby, where a few couches and tables were set to the side for when guests actually did decide they wanted to save their souls, you stopped. Your questions were answered; reclined in one of the leather chairs was Alastor himself, eyes closed and a tiny smirk settled upon his lips. With a whiskey glass barely held in his fingertips, he rested his head back on his overcoat and occasioanlly flicked one of his ears while he adjusted. The top buttons on his vest were open and his sleeves were rolled up to his forearms; a rather enticing sight, if you said so yourself.

But when you stepped closer and took the glass from his hand, you realized he was actually asleep. It was hardly ever you got to see your courter sleeping; he came to bed after you, woke before you... come to think of it, you were unable to think of a time you actually had seen Alastor asleep. You stared for a moment, fascinated.

The longer you watched him, the more details you noticed. In his sleep, his leg twitched from time to time and if you leaned to the side, you could see his short tail jumping back and forth. A few mumbled words escaped his lips. Was he... dreaming? His head tilted and his ears flattened slightly, his smile growing nearly invisible. That couldn’t have been good.

“Alastor,” you said quietly. You touched his shoulder and put a bit of pressure on it, not daring to shake him just yet. Hand extending, you touched the side of his face and tilted his chin slightly. “Wake up, handsome.”

It took just a moment for his eyes to flicker open and his smile to wind back up his face, slow and sluggish in his sluggish state. “Oh,” he said and blinked a few times, “darling. I must have let myself doze off.”

As he stood, you grabbed his overcoat and threw it over your shoulder, taking his arm and beginning to lead him to the evelators. “Hard day?”

He hummed, the static surrounding his voice slightly more fuzzy and crackling. “Unimaginably so, my dear. One can only put up with these bafoons and their shenanigans for so long before-“ he waved a slow, drunk hand- “being forced to turn to the elixirs kept behind the bar.”

“Well,” you said and helped him into the elevator. You gave him a smile. “Let’s get you to bed, then, Sir Overlord.”

“Hmm,” he mused. “I think I rather like the sound of that.”

[alenajg]

Vampire’s New Maid/Jimin x Reader

Chapter 2: The Boss

Warnings: mentions of blood.

Chapter 1

…………………………………………………………

“Miss? Miss, you need to wake up.” the driver grunts waking me up from my somewhat restless sleep. “ Hmm? Yes, I am up now sir.” I said gradually blinking my eyes open. Through mid-stretch I realized I don't know the driver's name, so I asked, “Um Sir, if you don't mind me inquiring, what is your name?” The man looks back at me through the review mirror with a hesitant glare in his gaze and speaks, “Why do you want to know? No one ever cares to ask unless I did something to offend them.” I immediately speak while shaking both my head and hands back and forth, “ No. No nothing like that at all. I just want to know, so I don't have to call you Sir all the time. Even a last name to call you by is more comfortable to me.” The man nods his head in understanding and there is a subtle smile at the edge of his mouth. “ Ah okay then my name is David Godfried. Since I gave you mine may I call you by your last name miss?” I smile at him politely, “ Thank you for telling me, Mr. Godfried, and yes you may.” Mr. Godfried gives me a full toothy smile,” Well Miss. L/N you should get going in the house. Mr. Park is waiting for you in his meeting room. Then the main Butler will greet you at the door and take you there.” I give him a grateful smile and an affirmative nod. “ Okie Dokie, thank you for telling me. That and also for picking me up and dropping me off.” Mr.Godfried replies, “You’re welcome Miss.L/N.” Slowly scooting to get out of the limousine I open the door and a gust of powerful wind and rain came into the car. “ Goodbye Miss.L/N “ I look back at him, “ Goodbye Mr.Godfried I wish you well.”

Getting out of the car I pull my coat closer toward my body. Looking away from the limousine I rapidly looked at the house and did a double-take of the beautiful view of the manor in front of me. The house has three stories with 25 windows on each level. At the end of the manor, there are rounded towers but are the same height as the rest of the manor. The tower-like structure has the same amount of levels as the rest of the manor, but on each floor, there is nothing but windows. At the top level, there is a balcony to overlook the hundreds of acres. The other tower-like structure is exactly the equivalent on the opposite side. Under each window of the manor, lights are pointing up at it and eliminating each window that makes the manor look like a golden yellow.

At the entrance, there are double doors that look like mahogany wood with big knockers, and the knockers are gold. Before that is an entrance porch with two large stone pillars holding up the stone cover and to get up to the porch you have to step up three stone steps. Right in front of me, there is a gravel pathway that leads to the front door, and on each side of the gravel pathway, there are Japanese Maple trees. Underneath the trees is dark green luscious grass.

Walking up the gravel path I feel the rocks move under my weight. Taking a final deep breath I step under the porch-like stone structure and use one of the knockers, which feels so smooth it seems like it is polished regularly.

After waiting for a few minutes the head butler opens the door and asks, “You are Mr. Park's new maid correct?” “ Yes Sir, my name is Y/N L/N,” I spoke with gentleness. The man has grey almost white hair and a scowling face. He wore a black turtle neck and black dress pants with leather shoes that shine so much I swear you almost get blinded by them. Opening one of the doors wider he speaks with a rushed, but harsh voice, “Come on! Come on now! We don't have all day to prance around like deer in headlights now do we! I have a job to accomplish and you have a meeting to be in.” “Oh!” I say shocked about his rudeness and how he pulls me into the manor to slam the door shut behind me. As much as I wanted to say excuse me I held my tongue and looked down towards my feet.

Not saying anything the elderly man turns around on the balls of his feet and starts walking up the stairs. Since his back was turned I quickly looked around the astounding manor while trying to keep up with him.

Outside the manor is all stone and glass windows except the door, but inside is just like the door everything interior-wise was mahogany. The doorways, the floors, the walls, and the stairs are all wood. Seeing the walls there was a pattern of squares on them that were sunken in, and the ceiling was wood as well, but there are patterns of swirls and circles highlighting the perimeters of the ceiling. On the sides of the walls about five feet apart are light fixtures that are crystal and gold. In the middle of the ceiling, there is a chandelier that looks like an upside-down tree. The area that would be the trunk and branches are gold, and the leaf like crystals are the lights. You can tell everything is up kept because everything has a gloss or shine to it.

Going up the stairs I noticed that there is a dark royal blue fluffy carpet, and at end of the first stir case there is two hallways that splits to go either east or west of the manor. Before the staircase ends it splits into two rounded staircases that go up to the second floor. Noticing this we go up on the right side of the staircase. The second level looks like a bunch of rooms and all the doors are open to see that they are unoccupied.

Thinking this is where we were going to stop I found out that I was corrected because the head butler went up another staircase, but this is a single staircase like the one on the bottom floor. Going up the staircase I noticed it was getting more bright and it smelled different, unlike the other floors. It smelt like citrus and mint with a touch of fresh air. Being directed to the west side of the manor we went to the very end of the hall where the tower-like structure is.

At the end of the hall, two twin-like doors are closed with handles that are made of gold and crystal. The head butler stops and speaks with a harsh tone, “Here is the meeting room where you will meet Mr.Park. After the meeting, he will show you to the room that you'll be staying in. Next, he will bring you to the head maid’s office so you can start working right away.” I wanted to reply as a thank you, but he simply turned and quickly walked away with his head held high.

Sighing I swiveled back around and knocked on the door because I didn't know if I was supposed to just walk in. Not hearing anything I peek my head in the room calling out, “Hello, Mr.Park?” Again nobody answered, so I walked in to look around and wait for him.

The place is full of windows and I can see a gorgeous view of the Japanese Maple trees and the infinite acres of green grass. Wanting a better look I went in-between his coffee table; made out of glass and gold, and one of his dark royal blue leather sofas. Then I had to go around his big desk made out of oak wood to get to the French glass doors leading to the balcony. Opening them I stepped out into the cold fresh air just to notice it stopped raining. Slowly walking further out onto the balcony just to lean on the stone railing to enjoy the view. Closing my eyes and breathing in the air I enjoyed my surroundings.

Suddenly I hear a sweet voice speak in a warning tone, “ Who are you, and why are you in my office?” Jumping out of my skin I hastily turn around to see a gorgeous man with threatening glazed brown eyes. His eyebrows lifted in question. I force down the clog in my throat and speak with what I hope is a respectful voice,” Mr.Park I am your new maid and blood donor Y/N L/N. I was showed here and was told to meet you here. I'm sorry if I offended you or broke any rules, Sir, please forgive me.” I look down at my feet and bowed in respect. He doesn't reply but walks closer towards me. He hums then speaks softly,” I am sorry if I scared you. I honestly forgot that you were coming today. Nice to meet you Miss.L/N, but next time don't come out on this balcony. I usually don't let anyone on here. It's more of a sacred space for me.” Gazing back up I see him smiling softly, so I nod my head and answer him truthfully. “ I see why it's absolutely lovely up here and soothing if I might say. I won't do it again though I am remorseful to invade your private space. It was unthoughtful of me. It's just when I came into your office Sir I was enamored by the beauty of it and wanted to come out to get a better look.” Looking around one more time I move past him to enter the meeting room. Turning to follow me he closes the French doors and spoke, “It’s okay, you didn't know Miss.L/N, and I know. That is the reason why I go out there”

Taking a breath and putting his hands together he speaks again as he moves to sit on one of the leather couches. “Now Miss.L/N I would like to ask you a few questions and after this meeting, I will show you to your room where you will be staying at. Okay?” Sitting down on the other leather couch that is opposite of Mr.Park I answer him. “ Okay, no problem ask away.”

Now taking in his attire he is wearing a silk looking suit jacket with a pattern of swirls that are blue and black. He is also wearing a silk white button-up and plain black silk fitted dress pants with leather black shoes.

“Why do you want to become a maid?” Mr.Park asks softly which comforts me. “I want to become a maid because of the good memories my mother has had as a maid. As much as my father was a farmer he did landscaping for the same boss and that's how they met. I wish to both be a maid and a landscaper for you Mr.Park because I want to carry on the legacy of my parents.” Throughout my speech, Mr.Park’s eyes became soft and gave me a small smile. “ I see...” he nods his head then speaks again, “I would like to see your landscaping ideas for the backyard, and as for being a maid what do you prefer to do?.”

After he said that I look up at him in excitement,” Oh really?! Thank you for such an opportunity, Sir. I am grateful and... Um, as for a maid I like to organize and help serve others when in need. I like to set up tables, do the dishes, and clean bedrooms.” When I was done speaking I stared at my lap to speak again, “I don't really like cleaning toilets, but I am okay with cleaning showers and countertops. I do like to do laundry and folding clothing it is very calming to me if I am stressed, angry at myself, or someone.” Not looking up until I felt him sit next to me on the couch. Looking up at him I noticed that he was searching for my eyes and I blushed. He chuckled softly at me, “Miss, you said everything except for cleaning a toilet and cooking. Is there anything you truly want to do as a maid?” I hesitantly speak my mind, “Well you see Mr.Park, my mother took care of her boss. She cleaned and pressed his suits. She brought his breakfast, lunch, and dinner. She also organized his schedule and paper/documents. I honestly desire that I could do the same things she did, but I am not qualified, and her boss only allowed her because he was married and so was she. That is why I didn't ask you if I can do such a thing for as you know I am an unmarried woman, so therefore you must think it is inappropriate of me for suggesting such a thing.”

When his eyebrows raised and his mouth opened to an o shape I looked away in shame. “Wow um that is something, but it would benefit me in many ways, plus you did say that you will allow me to drink your blood, so you being around when I am in need will help. Although, it is inappropriate for I am also unmarried,” he sighs and looks away from me, so I speak with haste because I was afraid of offending him. “Sir, I'm sorry I shouldn't have said anything, please forgive me. I do not mean to offend you or put you in an uncomfortable position. You can assign me any position/job and I will be happy I promise you.” He looks back at me in shock, “ Not many humans are happy to be maids. Why is it so different for you? Plus, you didn't offend me, Miss.L/N I was just taken aback by what you said was all.” He puts his hand on my hand to squeeze it and lets go quickly after.

“ I am different Sir because I promised my mother to love my life and that is what I plan to do no matter what the situation is,” I spoke with confidence while looking directly into his brown eyes. Again, he looks at me with a shocked expression, and I couldn't hold my laugh in and because of my laugh he started grinning at me. “ You know what? I will allow you to do the same thing your mom did for her boss.” This time I am the one looking at him in surprise, but then I get super excited and hugged him out of instinct. “ Oh! Thank you, Mr.Park thank you!” He gently hugs me back, but then he asks me another question.

“Miss L/N? Why do you want to be a blood donor?” Pulling away from him and looking down with a small frown on my face I tell him,” It's because I need the money to pay off a medical bill.” “ What? Medical bill? What do you mean? Are you sick?” He asks in concern, but I instantly shake my head no. “No, I am fine, but my little brother is not, he is living with a lung disorder that without a machine helping him to breathe right now he would be dead. Some treatments can help him, but I can't afford it and I understood that being just a maid won't be enough, so I was willing to be a blood donor. I know it's not the answer you might not want to hear, but please understand.” I look desperately into his eyes, but he closes his eyes tightly and sighs, “But are you truly willing to give me your blood?” Gazing back at me seriously, so I turn to speak in embarrassment, “Yes, I am also curious. I have always heard about how it feels, but I truly want to try it. If I give you a percentage out of one hundred. I would give you ninety-two percent of my willingness I am to give you my blood Mr.Park.

He nods his head from learning insight before he speaks, “How about this, tonight I need to feed anyway, so I will come to you for blood. After I have drunk from you the next day I want you to tell me an honest percentage of how much you are willing to let me have your blood. Okay?” I give him a grateful smile and spoke respectfully, “Okay, and thank you for your gracious offer, Mr.Park.” “You’re welcome, but since your going to be at my beck and call. I want you to do two things for me. One is to call me by my first name Jimin, and two, you have to sleep close to my room, so you will not be with the other maids. Can you do that for me Y/N?” I nod my head enthusiastically. “Good, well come on let me show you your room.” He chuckles while standing up.

…………………………………………………………

Hello :) Here is the second chapter hopefully it is better than the first, and hope you enjoy it.

From,

Author Rain

[nevertheless-moving]

Suicidal Misunderstanding VII

Star Wars Time Travel AU #27

Part I - - - Part II - - - Part III - - - Part IV - - - Part V - - - Part VI

CONTENT WARNING: Please be advised this chapter may contain triggering material. More detail available in tags. 

It wasn’t until Anakin was staring at the hot sauce bottles and solitary mysterious green takeout container that he remembered they were at war, and therefore no longer in the habit of restocking the apartment’s cold stasis.

“Obi-Wan, there’s nothing to eat!” 

"I know!” came the call back. “I’m trying to meditate!”

Anakin closed the stasis door and walked back out to the common room. Obi-Wan sat crosslegged on the window sill.

“Do or do not, there is no try,” the knight quipped.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes to look fondly at the man standing before him. Maybe tomorrow, when he woke alone in a dusty desert hovel, he would regret letting himself play pretend for so long. Maybe this whole day would fade from his memory like a dream.

But right now, he felt... peaceful. He wouldn’t claim to be satisfied by the explanations he imagined for Anakin, but it would have been far more disturbing if he somehow came up with an actually sympathetic justification for genocide. He got to say and hear a number of goodbyes. He even got to cry over Anakin with the comfort of his presence. 

Now he had to let go, to be there for Luke. (And he could always get more spice...)

“I guess if you need to meditate, I can go pick us up food from the Temple Tapcaf.” Anakin offered. 

“Thank you, Anakin. Today...helped. More than I can explain.” Obi-Wan said softly.

“I- I don’t really deserve that. Considering it was all my fault.” Anakin bowed his head, helpless for words, but uncomfortable with being praised.

“Not every terrible thing that has happened is your fault. You made a series of terrible choices, yes. But there were, there are, other dark forces at work and not a single Jedi in the order was able to stop them. At least for a short time today I was able to set that aside, so for what it’s worth, thank you.”

“Kriff.” Anakin said shocked. “Of course there’s more. Ok. That’s all right, we-” he was cut off by a growl from Obi-Wan’s stomach. 

A snort of laughter escaped before Anakin smacked a hand over his mouth. “Alright, I’m going to the Tapcaf, you just...meditate until I get back.”

Obi-Wan swallowed and nodded, “I love you so much.” 

“Force Obi-Wan, you’re going to make me start crying again.” He pulled him into a bear hug. “Don’t do anything stupid while I’m not gone, ok? Just...meditate. And drink some water.”

"Hmm, I don’t know. Some of my best choices recently have been stupid,” Obi-Wan laughed. The words were light, but Anakin felt a prickle of unease, a hint of danger. There was no clear cause, and Obi-Wan seemed relaxed but...

Anakin gripped his Master’s shoulders, staring him dead in the eye. “Promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

Obi-Wan sighed, “I promise.” He pulled Anakin down to press a kiss to his forehead. “Goodbye, Anakin.”

"I’ll be back in 20 minutes.” He paused, then mumbled, “i love you too” before speeding out the door.

Obi-Wan settled back into meditation, reaching inwards. Everything but his body and the light within faded. He magnified his hunger, his thirst, visualizing the pack of dried jerky in his hut, the precious jars of water in the basement. He could almost feel the heat that never quite abandoned Tatooine, even during the short nights. He opened his eyes

and saw the temple apartment.

He shut them again quickly. He was sure he could snap himself out of this. He sank deeper inward, careful to leave his shields perfectly intact. With the galaxy as dim as it was, a real show of force had the potential to grab attention across star systems. Force purging toxins, fortunately, was more a matter of internal concentration than outward power. It was one of the first skills Obi-Wan had truly mastered as a Jedi, thanks to numerous kidnappings at the start of his apprenticeship and hard drinking towards the end. 

It was uncomfortable to be that keenly aware of one’s kidneys, but Obi-Wan managed. It was less intense than a healing trance, anyway. His heart rate increased as various metabolic processes sped up- and almost immediately slowed down. Huh. The drug must of almost run its natural course, and now he 

still in the temple.

Kark. Shit. 

‘Breathe’ he thought. Stress was only going to increase his chances of a stroke. Alright, so meditation wasn’t working. Maybe he could try for longer, but part of him was nervous that if ‘Anakin’ returned he’d lose the willpower, and so far the passage of time had been extremely linear. He was too invested in the fantasy at this point for anything easy.

Remember your training. Your eyes can deceive you, do not trust them. 

Padawans were taught three main methodologies to move beyond mindtricks, hallucinations, visions, and the like. Looking In, Reaching Out, and Breaking Out. 

Looking in wasn’t working. That left the other two options. In the past, when his senses were lying to him he could always trust in the force, but now...it was just too much risk. Reaching out like that, with his whole self, meant the chance of finding someone.

That left breaking out. Obi-Wan jumped up, staring intensely at the details in the molding, the stains on the carpet, at everything. At no point today had he spotted objects fading to grey in the corner his vision, or ripple as memories from different time frames overlapped, but surely there must be some weak point.

Nothing. 

Shit, he really had stayed too long. Alright then, time for more uncivilized measures.

He walked to the kitchen and pulled their butcher’s vibroblade from its block, holding it to his neck, then hesitated.

This had to be done, but it didn’t make it any less unsettling. It was his own fault for lingering in the delusion so long; all the more palatable paths to escape had closed off, and after all he had been through he refused to die from a drug overdose. Gods, it might take years for someone to find the body.

He steeled himself, bringing the blade back up decisively only to drop it with a clatter. Pressing a hand to his throat, he was unnerved but not entirely surprised to find a stinging line of pain. His hand came away wet with blood. He instinctively pressed both hands to the cut, pulse rapid and heavy and slippery beneath his palms.

It’s just a hallucination. It’s just an extremely vivid hallucination.

A thought occurred to Obi-Wan then, and he felt something in the pit of his stomach drop in horror.

What if...what if the blade was real. What if he was actually moving around his home right now, hazily sleepwalking in a pantomime of the peaceful stroll and tender embraces he was imagining. It would explain the immediate relief from the water this morning...hadn’t he found his way to food and water even dazed from sleep-debt and blood-loss during the war?

He had a vibroblade in the desert too...

His pulse pounded harder beneath his hands. The cut wasn’t even that deep, but for the first time Obi-Wan felt the true existential horror of his current trap well up. If he didn’t know where the walls were...how could he escape.

He took a deep breath, acknowledging and letting go of his panic.

He had the force. He would just have to be delicate in his application. He picked up the bloodied tool from the floor but decided to simply to clip it to his belt for now. A force-null object would be harder to distinguish at first touch.

Obi-Wan walked to his temple bedroom and opened the barest crack in his shields, just enough to reach out, get a sense of existing currents in the force. He stirred at one until a small vortex of light formed. To anyone looking, it would appear a naturally occurring, low-powered whirlpool, common enough on Tattoine. Any gentle moves he made in the minutes before it fell apart would hopefully be obscured by its wake.

He hesitantly laid a hand on the lightsaber on his bedside table, lowering his shields a little further. His heart sunk when he realized that his memory had even recreated the perception of force-imbued temple walls in the periphery. The Kyber in his saber reverberated with a familiar song. He jerked his hand away. That felt too much like his real lightsaber. He couldn’t risk it. 

Before Obi-Wan truly began to panic again, he realized something missing. Anakin’s- Darth Vader’s saber. Since picking it up on Mustafar, the crystal in it had screamed at him, halfway to corruption. When he touched the blade he could almost feel... feel what horrors it had been bent to commit.

Most of the time he left it buried under a rock pile in his basement, too afraid to work on healing it.

He couldn’t hear it now- but he could feel the memory of what it used to be.

It sat innocently on his Anakin’s bedside table. There was a tinge of darkness to it of course- this saber had only ever known war. But when he rested a hand on the blade it was clear this belonged to the memory he had walked with today, not the tyranny of reality.

Grasping it firmly, he marched back to the windowsill and settled, intent on his choice. Sunsets here couldn’t compare to tattooine- they were just too different. The binary play transformed the infinite horizon. It was something on Tatooine he unabashedly marveled at.

Courasant, on the other hand, transformed the sun into a reflection of itself. Untold millions of transparisteel buildings refracted the star painfully at some points while casting shadows on the rest. The filter of light through constant smog resulted in strange shades of neon green and blood red. It was beautiful, but uncomfortable to look at too long.

He closed his eyes and pressed the saber to his chest.

---

Anakin was impatiently waiting in the hot service line when the urge to return to his apartment insistently welled up again. He pushed it back of course- Obi-Wan needed food and Anakin couldn’t keep putting his own selfish impulses in front of his Master’s wellbeing.

He held out for a few seconds, but the itch was getting stronger, sharper. He looked down at the tray- it already had most of Obi-Wan’s cold favorites, but he really wanted to get him his favorite soup if the line would just move a little faster. He jolted when, for the first time that day, Obi-Wan’s shielding thinned the slightest amount. Not enough to get anything clear, but the fact that there was movement at all...

He left the line; they could always come back together if Obi-Wan wanted. Hells, maybe they’d do a late night visit to Dex’s for some real comfort food. Anakin still couldn’t get a sense of what Obi-Wan was up to through their muffled bond. He felt a buzz in his ears, not unlike the moment before an enemy blow.

He picked up speed, tea sloshing in its thermoflask. An elder looked at him annoyed as darted around him.

He started speed walking in earnest as the feeling got more intense. A sandwich fell to the wayside.

Speed walking quickly switched to jogging, then running; there was a shout of complaint as he ditched the whole tray carelessly behind.

He took the last few hallways at a full-out force-assisted sprint, the Force itself screaming at him to move. A small part of his mind thought we’re safe inside the temple Obi-Wan promised not to do anything stupid i’m going to get such shit for freaking out over nothing. 

He sensed nothing from Obi-Wan over the bond; not a hint of fear or anger or surprise. He blurred around the last corner, feeling like he might throw up with his increasing, unexplained panic.

Not caringabout anything butgettingto Obi-Wan beforeitstoolate he smashed down the door at the same moment Obi-Wan, sitting peacefully by the window, turned on the lightsaber pointing directly at his heart.

Time seemed to slow. Splinters of the door frame hung in the air as Anakin desperately pulled the lightsaber away from Obi-Wan in the half-second between activation and ignition.

He wasn’t quite fast enough.

Blue plasma pierced Obi-Wan’s chest as time caught up. Pieces of the wall shattered like shrapnel as he turned, shocked to see Anakin. The saber flew away in a straight arrow. 

Anakin threw himself to Obi Wan’s side, wildly trying to draw heat away from the searing hole before it could vaporize the surrounding flesh. He couldn’t tell what the saber had pierced, or how far it had gone in considering its last second movement.

One hand trained on a hundred battle fields robotically reached for his comm-unit to call for emergency medical assistance. His mind however, had largely been left behind a few minutes ago, when he was trying to pick what Obi-Wan would want to eat for dinner.

What came out his mouth was more incoherent shrieking than anything else, but he had at least called the correct line for temple aid.

He threw down the comm, focus intent on controlling the smoldering burn. The air around them seemed to boil and Obi-Wan started struggling to get away. Anakin bodily held him down, finally finding words,

“What the FUCK, OBI-WAN! YOU LITERALLY JUST PROMISED NOT TO DO ANYTHING STUPID! YOU PROMISED!”

“that’s why- hkk I  have  to” Obi-Wan rasped.

“Karking Fuck.YOU- STOP MOVING!”

Anakin felt a twinge of danger come from the side but was too focused to do anything but shift his body as shield. A sharp pain pierced his gut but he ignored it. 

The air crackled with heat and power as the wound beneath him cooled. A faint trickle of dark blood oozed out, probably burns breaking from recent movement, considering the instant cauterization. He couldn’t see any light coming through, which meant he had moved the saber at least a quarter klick before it activated, Anakin thought semi hysterically.

Finally, someone showed up to investigate the disturbance. In truth, probably less than a minute had passed since Anakin entered the room, but he really didn’t care.

“HELP ME!” Anakin shouted.

“What happened?” Mace Windu asked grimly, falling to the ground next to them. Not waiting for an answer, he set his lit saber aside and placed his hand to Obi-Wan’s forehead, stilling the violent thrashing.

Anakin opened his mouth but he just didn’t have the words. He didn’t know. 

“General Skywalker, report.” Mace Windu commanded sharply. 

“I left him alone to get dinner for us. I ran back and when I broke open the door he was holding the lightsaber to his chest. I tried...to pull it away. It pierced him, and I’ve been trying to manage the initial burn risk. I called for medi but I don’t know their eta.”

“They’re behind me. How did you get stabbed?” the Master demanded.

“How did I what?” Anakin looked down to see a vibroblade sticking out from his left side. Right, the pain from before. Obi-Wan suddenly mustered up the energy to wake up despite his state and Windu’s compulsion. He looked around wildly before yanking the knife from Anakin’s side.

Anakin gasped, but managed to still his brother’s hand using the force before he could finish bringing it up to his neck, which Anakin just noticed was bloody.

“STOP TRYING TO DIE!” Anakin screeched.

“...I’m...not....I’m....trying.....to...” 

But before Obi-Wan could finish the sentence, the healers finally arrived, pushing Windu aside to grab hold of Anakin and Obi-Wan. He could feel a buzz of energy go through him, stopping at the growing damp patch at his side. He tried to push the man away but the heat in the room was starting to make him dizzy

“I’m fine! Focus on Obi-Wan.”

Mace placed a hand on his shoulder, and in the gentlest voice he had ever heard from the man, said, “You’ve been stabbed Anakin. Let the healers help both of you- you’ve done well looking out for him.”

Obi-Wan, still occasional thrashing was being loaded onto a hoverstrech for transport. A second stretcher waited next to it. 

“Master Windu! He’s fighting us,” Master Che called sharply. “Can you tell us what happened?”

“Master Kenobi tried to kill himself,” Windu replied flatly. “His wounds are self inflicted and he’s violently fighting assistance” 

There was a beat as that information was processed. Knight Bant, who must have arrived at some point, said in slightly less flat voice, “He displayed erratic behavior earlier today, and I ruled out drug interactions.”

“Thank you, Knight Bant.” Master Che plunged a syringe of some kind into Obi-Wans thigh. He finally stopped attempting to fight, falling down onto the board. “Red team, with me. Orange, you have Skywalker,” She instructed sharply. 

Anakin numbly watched most of the healers leave with Obi-Wan through a hole in the wall. He slowly started to stand and somehow ended up guided into a seat on the hoverboard. Looking down, he was surprised to see his tunic cut away in favor of a large bacta patch. 

“Hey,” he protested. “Who stabbed me?”

“We can discuss that after you have surgery,” A Human healer replied. Master Covamos, he thought.

“This is my fault” Anakin said, suddenly urgent. “I shouldn’t have left him. He told me goodbye, he was saying goodbye all day, I should have...”

“You saved his life,” Windu interrupted. “You got to him just in time, don’t waste your energy on should-haves. Now sleep.”

Anakin wanted to argue more, but instead found himself laying down, vision blurring. His face felt damp, had he been stabbed more than once? Windu said a few more words he couldn’t quite make out. There was a brief stinging sensation, then everything faded away. 

----

Part VIII